THE  PREACHER 

HIS  LIFE   AND  WORK 

YALE  LECTURES 

REV.  J.  h/jOWETT,  D.D. 

PASTOR  FIFTH  AVENUE  PRESBYTERIAN  CHURCH,  NEW  YORK 

AUTHOR  OF   "apostolic  OPTIMISM,"    "tHE   PASSION  FOR  SOULS," 
"l   »K  SILVER   LINING,"   ETC- 


OFP/IH 


NEW  >iSjr  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1912,  by 
George  H.  Doran  Company 


CONTENTS 

Lecture  Page 

I    The  Call  to  be  a  Preacher       .        .        9 
*''■  Separated  unto  the  Gosj^el  of  Ood.'*'' 

II    The  Perils  op  the  Preacher     .        .       41 

''^Lest .  .  .  I  myself  should  be  a  cast- 
axcay?'* 

III  The  Preacher's  Themes      ...       76 

'•''Feed  my  sheep,'*'* 

IV  The  Preacher  in  His  Study       .        .113 

"^  wise  master-builder.'*'* 

V    The  Preacher  in  His  Pulpit      .         .     145 
"77ie  service  of  the  sanctuary. '*'* 

VI    The  Preacher  in  the  Home       .        .     177 
^^From  house  to  house.'*'* 

VII     The  Preacher  as  a  Man  of  Affairs  .     209 
''''Like  unto  a  merchantman.*'* 


THE  CALL  TO  BE  A  PREACHER 

** Separated  unto  the  Gospel  of  God** 


LECTURE      .      ONE 


THE     PREACHER: 

His  Life  and  Work 


THE  CALL  TO  BE  A  PREACHER 

"Separated  unto  the  Gospel  of  God" 

In  the  course  of  these  lectures  I  am  to 
speak  on  the  general  theme  of  "  The 
Preacher:  his  life  and  work."  There  is 
little  or  no  need  of  introduction.  The 
only  prefatory  word  I  wish  to  offer  is  this. 
I  have  been  in  the  Christian  ministry  for 
over  twenty  years.  I  love  my  calling.  I 
have  a  glowing  delight  in  its  services.  I 
am  conscious  of  no  distractions  in  the  shape 
of  any  competitors  for  my  strength  and 
allegiance.  I  have  had  but  one  passion, 
and  I  have  lived  for  it — the  absorbingly 
arduous  yet  glorious  work  of  proclaiming 
the  grace  and  love  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour 

[9] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

Jesus  Christ.  I  stand  before  you,  there- 
fore, as  a  fellow-labourer,  who  has  been 
over  a  certain  part  of  the  field,  and  my  sim- 
ple purpose  is  to  dip  into  the  pool  of  my 
experiences,  to  record  certain  practical 
judgments  and  discoveries,  and  to  offer 
counsels  and  warnings  which  have  been 
born  out  of  my  own  successes  and  defeats. 
I  assume  that  I  am  speaking  to  men  who 
are  looking  upon  the  field  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  circumference,  who  are  con- 
templating the  work  of  the  ministry,  who 
are  now  disciplining  their  powers,  prepar- 
ing their  instruments,  and  generally  ar- 
f:inging  their  plans  for  a  journey  over 
what  is  to  them  a  yet  untravelled  country. 
I  have  been  over  some  of  the  roads,  and  I 
want  to  tell  you  some  of  the  things  which 
I  have  found. 


To-day  I  am  to  speak  on  the  Preacher's 
call  and  mission.  It  is  of  momentous  im- 
portance how  a  man  enters  the  ministry. 

[10] 


THE  CALL  TO  BE  A  PREACHER 

There  is  a  "  door  "  into  this  sheepfold,  and 
there  is  "  some  other  way."  A  man  may 
enter  as  a  result  of  merely  personal  calcu- 
lation: or  he  may  enter  from  the  constraint 
of  the  purely  secular  counsel  of  his  friends. 
He  may  take  up  the  ministry  as  a  pro- 
fession, as  a  means  of  earning  a  living,  as 
a  desirable  social  distinction,  as  a  business 
that  offers  pleasantly  favourable  chances 
of  cultured  leisure,  of  coveted  leaderships, 
and  of  attractive  publicity.  A  man  may 
become  a  minister  because,  after  carefully 
weighing  comparative  advantages,  he  pre- 
fers the  ministry  to  law,  or  to  medicine, 
or  to  science,  or  to  trade  and  commerce. 
The  ministry  is  ranged  among  many  other 
secular  alternatives,  and  it  is  chosen  be- 
cause of  some  outstanding  allurement  that 
appeals  to  personal  taste.  Now  in  all  such 
decisions  the  candidate  for  the  ministry 
misses  the  appointed  door.  His  vision  is. 
entirely  horizontal.  His  outlook  is  that  of 
"  the  man  of  the  world."  Similar  consider- 
ations are  prevalent:  similar  maxims  and 
axioms   are   assumed:   the   same   scales   of 

[11] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

judgment  are  used.  The  constraining 
motive  is  ambition,  and  the  coveted  goal 
is  success.  There  is  nothing  vertical  in  the 
vision.  There  is  no  lifting  up  of  the  eyes 
"  unto  the  hills."  There  is  nothing  "  from 
above."  There  is  no  awful  mysteriousness 
as  of  "  a  wind  that  bloweth  where  it  listeth." 
A  man  has  decided  his  calling,  but  "  God 
was  not  in  all  his  thoughts." 

Now  I  hold  with  profound  conviction 
that  before  a  man  selects  the  Christian 
ministry  as  his  vocation  he  must  have  the 
assurance  that  the  selection  has  been  im- 
peratively constrained  by  the  eternal  God. 
The  call  of  the  Eternal  must  ring  through 
the  rooms  of  his  soul  as  clearly  as  the  sound 
of  the  morning-bell  rings  through  the  val- 
leys of  Switzerland,  calling  the  peasants  to 
early  prayer  and  praise.  The  candidate  for 
the  ministry  must  move  like  a  man  in 
secret  bonds.  "  Necessity  is  laid "  upon 
him.  His  choice  is  not  a  preference  among 
alternatives.  Ultimately  he  has  no  alterna- 
tive: all  other  possibilities  become  dumb: 
there  is  only  one  clear  call  sounding  forth 

[12] 


THE  CALL  TO  BE  A  PREACHER 

as  the  imperative  summons  of  the  eternal 
God. 

Now  no  man  can  define  or  describe  for 
another  man  the  likeness  and  fashion  of  the 
divine  vocation.  No  man's  circumstances 
are  exactlv  commensurate  with  another's, 
and  the  nature  of  our  circumstances  gives 
distinctiveness  and  originality  to  our  call. 
Moreover  the  Lord  honours  our  individ- 
uality in  the  very  uniqueness  of  the  calh 
He  addresses  to  us.  The  singularitj^  of  our- 
circumstances,  and  the  awful  singularity 
Df  our  souls,  provide  the  medium  through 
which  we  hear  the  voice  of  the  Lord.  How 
strangely  varied  are  the  "  settings  "  through 
which  the  divine  voice  determines  the  voca- 
tions of  men,  as  they  are  recorded  in  the 
Scriptures!  Here  is  Amos,  a  poor  herd- 
man,  brooding  deeply  and  solitarily  amid 
the  thin  pastures  of  Tekoa.  And  rumours 
come  his  way  of  dark  doings  in  the  high 
places  of  the  land.  Wealth  is  breeding 
prodigality.  Luxury  is  breeding  callous- 
ness. Injustice  is  rampant,  and  "  truth  is 
fallen  in  the  streets."     And  as  the  poor 

[IB] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

herdman  mused  "  the  fire  burned."  On 
those  lone  wastes  he  heard  a  mysterious 
call  and  he  saw  a  beckoning  hand!  For 
him  there  was  no  alternative  road.  "The 
Lord  took  me  as  I  followed  the  flock,  and 
said,  Go,  prophesy!  " 

But  how  different  is  the  setting  in  the 
call  of  the  Prophet  Isaiah!  Isaiah  was  a 
friend  of  kings:  he  was  a  cultured  fre- 
quenter of  courtly  circles:  he  was  at  home 
in  the  precincts  of  kings'  courts.  And 
through  what  medium  did  the  divine  call 
sound  to  this  man?  "  In  the  year  that 
King  Uzziah  died  I  saw  the  Lord."  Isaiah 
had  pinned  his  faith  to  Uzziah.  Uzziah  was 
"  the  pillar  of  a  people's  hopes."  Upon 
his  strong  and  enlightened  sovereignty  was 
being  built  a  purified  and  stable  state. 
And  now  the  pillar  had  fallen,  and  it 
seemed  as  though  all  the  fair  and  promis- 
ing structure  w^ould  topple  with  it,  and 
the  nation  v»^ould  drop  again  into  unclean- 
ness  and  confusion.  But  on  the  empty 
throne  Isaiah  discovered  the  presence  of 
God.     A  human  pillar  had  crumbled:  the 

[14] 


THE  CALL  TO  BE  A  PREACHER 

Pillar  of  the  universe  remained.  "  In  the 
year  that  King  Uzziah  died  I  sav/  the 
Lord."  Isaiah  had  a  vision  of  a  mighty 
God,  with  a  vaster  sovereignty,  moving 
and  removing  men  as  the  ministers  of  His 
large  and  beneficent  purpose.  Isaiah 
mourned  the  fall  of  a  king,  and  he  heard 
a  call  to  service!  "  Whom  shall  I  send,  and 
who  will  go  for  me?"  One  man  fallen: 
another  man  wanted!  God's  call  sounded 
through  the  impoverished  ranks,  and  smote 
the  heart  and  conscience  of  Isaiah,  and 
Isaiah  found  his  vocation  and  his  destiny. 
"  Here  am  I,  send  me!  " 

How  different,  again,  are  the  circum- 
stances attending  the  call  of  Jeremiah! 
There  are  liquids  which  a  "  shake "  will 
precipitate  into  solids:  and  there  are  fluid 
and  nebulous  things  in  life,  vague  things 
lying  back  in  the  mists  of  consciousness, 
which  some  sudden  shaking  or  shifting  of 
circumstances  can  precipitate  into  clear 
intuition,  into  firm  knowledge,  and  we  have 
the  mind  and  will  of  God.  Yes,  a  little 
tilt  of  circumstances,  and  the  mist  becomes 

[15] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

a  vision,  and  uncertainty  changes  into 
realized  destiny.  I  think  it  was  even  so 
with  Jeremiah.  In  his  life  there  had  been 
thinkings  without  conclusions,  obscure  mo- 
ments of  consciousness  without  clear  guid- 
ance, broodings  without  definite  voca- 
tions. But  one  day,  we  know  not 
how,  his  circumstances  slightly  shifted, 
and  his  vague  meditation  changed  into 
vivid  conviction,  and  he  heard  the 
voice  of  the  Lord  God  saying  unto  him, 
"  Before  thou  camest  forth  out  of  the 
womb  I  sanctified  thee,  and  I  ordained 
thee  a  prophet."  It  was  a  clear  call:  like 
lightning  rather  than  light:  and  it  was 
greatly  feared,  and  reluctantly  accepted. 

I  have  given  three  examples  of  the  vary- 
ing fashions  in  the  callings  of  our  God:  but 
had  they  been  indefinitely  multiplied,  until 
they  had  included  the  last  one  in  my  audi- 
ence to  hear  the  mystic  voice,  it  would  be 
found  that  every  genuine  call  has  its  own 
uniqueness,  and  that  through  the  originality 
of  personal  circumstances  the  divine  call 
is  mediated  to  the  individual  soul.     And 

[16] 


THE  CALL  TO  BE  A  PREACHER 

SO  we  cannot  tell  how  the  call  will  come 
to  us,  what  will  be  the  manner  of  its  com- 
ing. It  may  be  that  the  divine  constraint 
will  be  as  soft  and  gentle  as  a  glance:  *'  I 
will  guide  thee  with  Mine  eye."  It  may 
be  that  we  can  scarcely  describe  the  guid- 
ance, it  is  so  shy,  and  quiet,  and  unob- 
trusive. Or  it  may  be  that  the  constraint 
will  seize  us  as  with  a  strong  and  invisible 
grip,  as  though  we  were  in  the  custody  of 
an  iron  hand  from  which  we  cannot  escape. 
That,  I  think,  is  the  significance  of  the 
strangely  violent  figure  used  by  the  Prophet 
Isaiah:  "  The  Lord  said  unto  me  with  a 
strong  hand/'  The  divine  calling  laid  hold 
of  the  young  prophet  as  though  with  a 
"  strong  hand "  that  imprisoned  him  like 
a  vice!  He  felt  he  had  no  alternative!  He 
was  carried  along  by  divine  coercion! 
"  Necessity  was  laid"  upon  him!  He  was 
"  in  bonds  "  and  he  must  obey.  And  I 
think  this  feeling  of  the  "  strong  hand," 
this  sense  of  mj^sterious  coercion,  is  some- 
times a  dumb  constraint  which  offers  but 
little  illumination  to  the  judgment.    What 

[17] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

I  mean  is  this :  a  man  may  realize  his  call  to 
the  ministry  in  the  powerful  imperative  of 
a  dumb  grip  for  which  he  can  offer  no 
adequate  reason.  He  is  sure  of  the  con- 
straint. It  is  as  manifest  as  gravity.  But 
when  he  seeks  for  explanations  to  justify 
himself  he  feels  he  is  moving  in  the  twilight 
or  in  the  deeper  mystery  of  the  night.  He 
knows  the  "  feel  "  of  the  "  strong  hand  " 
that  moves  him,  but  he  cannot  give  a  sat- 
isfactory interpretation  of  the  movement. 
If  I  may  say  it  without  needless  obtrusion, 
this  w^as  the  character  of  my  own  earliest 
call  into  the  ministry.  For  a  time  I  was 
like  a  blind  man  who  is  being  led  by  the 
"  strong  hand  "  of  a  silent  guide.  There 
was  the  guidance  of  a  mysterious  coercion, 
but  there  was  no  open  vision.  I  was  "  in 
bonds,"  but  I  knew  the  "  hand,"  and  I 
had  to  obey.  "  I  will  bring  the  blind  bj^  a 
way  that  they  knew  not."  "  Thou  hast  laid 
Thine  hand  upon  me." 

And  so  it  is  that  the  manner  of  one  man's 
"  call  "  may  be  very  different  to  the  manner 
of  ar other  man's  "call,"  but  in  the  essen- 

[18] 


thp:  call  to  be  a  preacher 

tial  matter  they  are  one  and  the  same.  I 
would  affirm  my  own  conviction  that  in  all 
genuine  callings  to  the  ministry  there  is 
a  sense  of  the  divine  initiative,  a  solemn 
communication  of  the  divine  will,  a  mys- 
terious feeling  of  commission,  which  leaves 
a  man  no  alternative,  but  which  sets  him 
in  the  road  of  this  vocation  bearing  the 
ambassage  of  a  servant  and  instrument  of 
the  eternal  God.  "  For  whosoever  shall 
call  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord  shall  be 
saved.  How  then  shall  they  call  on  Him 
in  whom  they  have  not  believed?  and  how 
shall  they  believe  on  Him  of  whom  thej^  have 
not  heard?  and  how  shall  they  hear  without 
a  preacher?  and  how  shall  they  preach 
except  they  he  sent? ''  The  assurance  of 
being  sent  is  the  vital  part  of  our  commis- 
sion. But  hear  again  the  word  of  God: 
''  I  have  not  sent  these  prophets,  yet  they 
ran:  I  have  not  spoken  to  them,  yet  they 
prophesied."  The  absence  of  the  sense  of 
vocation  will  eviscerate  a  man's  responsi- 
bility, and  will  tend  to  secularize  his  minis- 
try from  end  to  end. 

[19] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

Now  a  man  who  enters  through  the  door 
of  divine  vocation  into  the  ministry  will 
surely  apprehend  "  the  glory  "  of  his  call- 
ing. He  will  be  constantly  wondering,  and 
his  wonder  will  be  a  moral  antiseptic,  that 
he  has  been  appointed  a  servant  in  the 
treasuries  of  grace,  to  make  known  "  the 
unsearchable  riches  of  Christ."  You  can- 
not get  away  from  that  wonder  in  the  life 
of  the  Apostle  Paul.  Next  to  the  infinite 
love  of  his  Saviour,  and  the  amazing  glory 
of  his  own  salvation,  his  wonder  is  arrested 
and  nourished  by  the  surpassing  glory  of 
his  own  vocation.  His  "  calling  "  is  never 
lost  in  the  medley  of  professions.  The  light 
of  privilege  is  always  shining  on  the  way 
of  duty.  His  work  never  loses  its  halo,  and 
his  road  never  becomes  entirely  common- 
place and  grey.  He  seems  to  catch  his 
breath  every  time  he  thinks  of  his  mission, 
and  in  the  midst  of  abounding  adversity 
glory  still  more  abounds.  And,  therefore, 
this  is  the  sort  of  music  and  song  that  we 
find  unceasing,  from  the  hour  of  his  con- 
version and  calling  to  the  hour  of  his  death : 

[20] 


THE  CALL  TO  BE  A  PREACHER 

"  Unto  me,  who  am  less  than  the  least  of 
all  saints,  is  this  grace  given,  that  I  should 
preach  among  the  Gentiles  the  unsearch- 
able riches  of  Christ."  "  For  this  cause  I 
Paul,  the  prisoner  of  Jesus  Christ  for  you 
Gentiles,  if  ye  have  heard  of  the  dispensa- 
tion of  the  grace  of  God  which  is  given  me 
to  you-ward!"  "  Whereunto  I  am  or- 
dained a  preacher,  and  an  apostle,  a  teacher 
of  the  Gentiles  in  faith  and  verity!"  Do 
you  not  feel  a  sacred,  burning  wonder  in 
these  exclamations,  a  holy,  exulting  pride 
in  his  vocation,  leagued  with  a  marvelling 
humility  that  the  mystic  hand  of  ordination 
had  rested  upon  him?  That  abiding  won- 
der was  part  of  his  apostolic  equipment, 
and  his  sense  of  the  glory  of  his  calling 
enriched  his  proclamation  of  the  glories  of 
redeeming  grace.  If  we  lose  the  sense  of 
the  wonder  of  our  commission  we  shall 
become  like  common  traders  in  a  common 
market,  babbling  about  common  wares. 

I  think  you  will  find  that  all  great 
preachers  have  preserved  this  wondering 
sense   of  the  greatness   of   their  vocation. 

[21] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

It  was  most  impressively  true  of  Dr.  Dale, 
a  distinguished  Yale  lecturer,  and  my  il- 
lustrious predecessor  in  the  pulpit  at  Carrs 
Lane.  The  members  of  my  old  congrega- 
tion have  often  tried  to  describe  to  me  the 
mingled  dignity  and  humility  with  which 
he  proclaimed  the  gospel  of  salvation. 
They  say  that  at  times  he  spake  with  a 
sort  of  personal  diffidence  born  of  a  great 
surprise  that  he  should  be  counted  worthy 
to  "  bear  the  vessels  of  the  Lord."  They 
tell  me  that  it  was  peculiarly  manifest  at 
the  table  of  the  Lord,  and  at  other  times, 
when,  in  the  handling  of  the  most  august 
themes,  he  was  leading  his  people  into  the 
innermost  secrets  of  the  hol}^  place.  All 
this  was  equally  true  of  another  man, 
very  different  in  mental  equipment  to  Dr. 
Dale,  Robert  IM'Chej^ne,  who,  in  Scotland, 
brought  the  riches  of  grace  to  an  almost 
countless  multitude.  Andrew  Bonar, 
M'Cheyne's  intimate  friend,  has  told  us 
with  what  full  and  delicate  wonder  he  car- 
ried his  ministry  in  the  Lord.  In  their 
conversation    he    would    frequently    break 

[22] 


THE  CALL  TO  BE  A  PREACHER 

out  into  deep  and  joyful  surprise.  The 
glory  of  his  ministry  irradiated  common 
duty  like  a  halo,  and  God's  statutes  became 
his  songs.  I  do  not  marvel  that  Andrew 
Bonar  can  write  these  words  about  him: 
"  He  was  so  reverent  toward  God,  so  full 
also  in  desire  toward  Him  ...  he  never 
seemed  unprepared.  His  lamp  was  always 
burning,  and  his  loins  always  girt.  His 
forgetfulness  of  all  that  was  not  found  to 
God's  glory  was  remarkable,  and  there 
seemed  never  a  time  when  he  was  not 
himself  feeling  the  presence  of  God." 

This  sense  of  great  personal  surprise  in 
the  glory  of  our  vocation,  while  it  will  keep 
us  humble,  will  also  make  us  great.  It 
will  save  us  from  becoming  small  officials 
in  transient  enterprises.  It  will  make  us 
truly  big,  and  will,  therefore,  save  us  from 
spending  our  days  in  trifling.  Emerson 
has  somewhere  said  that  men  whose  duties 
are  done  beneath  lofty  and  stately  domes 
acquire  a  dignified  stride  and  a  certain 
stateliness  of  demeanour.  And  preachers  of 
the  gospel,  whose  work  is  done  beneath  the 

[23] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

lofty  dome  of  some  glorious  and  wonderful 
conception  of  their  ministry,  will  acquire 
a  certain  largeness  of  demeanour  in  which 
flippancy  and  trivialities  cannot  breathe. 
"  I  shall  run  the  way  of  Thy  command- 
ments when  Thou  shalt  enlarge  my  heart" 
Now,  if  such  be  the  sacredness  of  our 
calling,  and  its  consequent  glory,  we  cannot 
be  blind  to  its  solemn  responsibilities.  It  is 
a  great,  awful,  holy  trust.  We  are  called 
to  be  guides  and  guardians  of  the  souls 
of  men,  leading  them  into  "  the  way  of 
peace."  We  are  to  be  constantly  engaged 
with  eternal  interests,  leading  the  thoughts 
and  wills  of  men  to  the  things  that  pri- 
marily matter,  and  disengaging  them  from 
lesser  or  meaner  concerns  which  hold  them 
in  servitude.  We  are  to  be  the  friends  of 
the  Bridegroom,  winning  men,  not  to  our- 
selves, but  to  Him,  match-making  for  the 
Lord,  abundantly  satisfied  when  we  have 
brought  the  bride  and  the  Bridegroom  to- 
gether. I  do  not  wonder  that  men  shrink 
from  the  calling  even  when  they  feel  the 
glory  of  it  I    I  do  not  wonder  at  the  holy 

[24] 


THE  CALL  TO  BE  A  PREACHER 

fear  of  men  as  they  approach  the  sacred 
office!  Listen  to  these  words  of  Charles 
Kingsley,  written  in  his  private  journal, 
written  in  the  dawning  of  the  day  on 
which  he  was  to  be  ordained  to  the  priest- 
hood of  the  Lord:  "  In  a  few  hours  my 
whole  soul  will  be  waiting  silently  for  the 
seals  of  admission  to  God's  service,  of  which 
honour  I  dare  hardly  think  myself  worthy 
.  .  .  Night  and  morning  for  months  my 
prayer  has  been,  Oh,  God,  if  I  am  not 
worthy,  if  my  sin  in  leading  souls  away 
from  Thee  is  still  unpardoned,  if  I  am 
desiring  to  be  a  deacon  not  wholly  for 
the  sake  of  serving  Thee,  if  it  is  necessary 
to  show  me  my  weakness  and  the  holiness 
of  Thy  office  still  more  strongly,  Oh,  God, 
reject  me!"  I  say  I  do  not  wonder  at 
the  shrinking,  and  I  would  not  pray  that 
the  day  may  come  when  it  may  entirely 
pass  away,  lest  in  a  perilous  self-confidence 
we  lose  the  brightness  of  the  glory,  and 
have  an  impoverished  conception  of  our 
great  vocation.  In  this  matter,  as  in  many 
others,  "  the  fear  of  the  Lord  is  a  fountain 

[25] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

of  life,"  and  "  the  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the 
beginning  of  wisdom." 

II 

Such,  then,  is  the  preacher's  calling,  so 
sacred,  so  responsible,  so  glorious;  what 
can  be  the  mission  of  such  a  vocation? 
Have  we  any  clear  word  of  enlightenment 
which  places  it  before  us  like  a  shining 
road?  I  think  we  have.  Whenever  I  want 
to  recover  afresh  the  superlatively  lofty 
mission  of  my  calling  I  reverently  turn 
into  the  holy  place  where  our  JNIaster  is  in 
communion  with  the  Father,  and  in  that 
mysterious  fellowship  I  hear  my  calling 
defined.  "  As  Thou  hast  sent  Me  into  the 
world,  even  so  have  I  also  sent  them  into 
the  world."  The  serenity  that  pervades 
that  sequence  is  overwhelming.  The 
quietude  of  the  passage  is  the  quietude  of 
stupendous  heights.  It  is  the  serenity  of 
sublimity.  The  "  even  so "  which  asso- 
ciates the  two  sentences  on  the  same  level 
of  thought  and  purpose  is  majestic  and 
divine.     It  places  the  mission  of  the  Gali- 

[26] 


THE  CALL  TO  BE  A  PREACHER 

lean  fishermen  in  line  with  the  redemptive 
mission  of  the  Son  of  God. 

Let  us  move  reverently  in  that  secret 
holy  place.  "  As  Thou  hast  sent  Me."  The 
words  lead  our  halting,  failing  thought  into 
the  inconceivable  state  which  our  Lord 
described  as  "  The  glory  which  I  had  with 
Thee  before  the  world  was."  I  know  that 
we  have  neither  wing  with  which  to  soar 
into  the  mysterious  realm  nor  eye  where- 
with to  see  the  burning  bliss.  But  we 
may  feel  the  majesty  of  what  we  cannot 
express.  It  is  well  to  feel  the  awe  of  the 
undefined  and  the  indefinable.  And  it  is 
well  to  lose  ourselves  in  the  vast  significance 
of  words  like  these,  "  The  glory  which  I 
had  with  Thee  before  the  world  was." 
Brood  upon  it.  The  sublime  abode!  The 
holy  Fatherhood!  The  light  ineffable!  The 
mystic  presences!  The  cherubim  and  sera- 
phim who  "  continually  do  cry,  Holy,  Holy, 
Holy!"  And  then  in  that  glory  the 
redemptive  mission  of  the  Prince  of  Glory! 
A  wonder  more  glorious  than  the  glory  is 
the  laying  of  the  glory  by!    "  He  emptied 

[27] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

Himself."  The  amazement  of  the  spirits 
that  surround  the  throne!  "  The  word  be- 
came flesh."  The  wonder  of  it!  The  awe 
of  it!  "As  Thou  hast  sent  Me  into  the 
world." 

And  now  change  the  scene.  The  incon- 
ceivable glory  is  laid  aside.  The  Son  of 
Glory  is  no  longer  surrounded  by  cheru- 
bim and  seraphim,  swift  and  pure  as  light. 
But  in  the  guise  of  a  Galilean  peasant  He 
has  a  few  fishermen  around  Him,  dull  in 
apprehension  of  spiritual  purpose,  timid  in 
heart,  irresolute  in  will,  often  seeking  per- 
sonal advancement  rather  than  the  progress 
of  truth,  very  lame,  very  dense,  altogether 
very  imperfect  and  soon  to  forsake  Him 
and  flee. 

And  these  two  scenes  are  linked  together. 
"  As  Thou  hast  sent  Me  into  the  world, 
even  so  have  I  also  sent  them  into  the 
world."  That  the  one  "  going  out  "  should 
be  linked  with  the  other  is  to  me  the  wonder 
of  wonders.  The  marvel  is  that  they  should 
be  mentioned  in  the  same  breath,  included 
in  the  same  bundle  of  thought,   compre- 

£28] 


THE  CALL  TO  BE  A  PREACHER 

hended  in  the  same  purpose.  For  what 
does  the  association  mean?  It  means  the 
exaltation  of  Christian  apostleship,  the 
glorification  of  the  Christian  ministry.  It 
means  that  the  mystic  ordination  that 
rested  on  the  Son  of  Glory,  when  He  came 
to  earth,  rested  also  on  the  fisherman  Peter 
as  he  went  down  to  Cssarea.  It  means 
that  the  same  holy  commission  that  wrought 
in  the  redemptive  ministry  of  the  Son  of 
God  wrought  also  in  the  energies  of  the 
Apostle  Paul  as  he  went  forth  to  Mace- 
donia, and  on  to  Corinth,  and  Athens, 
and  Rome.  It  means  that  you,  in  your 
sphere  of  service,  and  I  in  mine,  may,  in 
our  own  degree,  share  the  same  joyous 
commission  as  was  held  by  the  Prince  of 
Glory  when  He  was  made  in  the  likeness 
of  man.  It  is  the  glorification  of  the 
apostle's  mission  and  service.  "  As  Thou 
hast  sent  Me." 

We  must,  therefore,  look  carefully  at 
what  is  said  about  the  nature  and  char- 
acter of  our  Lord's  mission  if  we  would 
understand   our   own   commission,   and   so 

r291 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

realize  the  glory  of  our  own  appointment 
and  the  dignity  of  our  own  service.  We 
must  reverently  gaze  upon  the  one  that 
we  may  thereby  apprehend  the  other. 
Have  we  any  further  guidance  concerning 
the  mission  of  our  Lord?  Did  He  define 
it?  Did  He  describe  it?  Has  He  any- 
where outlined  it  in  features  that  we  can 
comprehend?  I  think  such  light  has  been 
given  us.  We  are  told  that  Jesus  went  into 
Nazareth  on  the  Sabbath  day.  He  entered 
the  synagogue.  He  opened  a  book  and 
read  a  selected  passage,  and  then  He  ap- 
propriated the  words  as  descriptive  of 
Himself,  and  as  finding  fulfilment  in  His 
own  life.  And  what  was  the  passage? 
"  He  hath  sent  Me  to  preach  the  gospel  to 
the  poor,  to  heal  the  broken-hearted,  to 
preach  deliverance  to  the  captives,  and 
recovering  of  sight  to  the  blind;  to  set  at 
liberty  them  that  are  bruised  and  to  pro- 
claim the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord." 
Is  it  possible  that  the  passage  is  a  lamp 
whereby  we  may  interpret  our  own  minis- 
try?    Look  at  the  cardinal  words  in  the 

[30] 


THE  CALL  TO  BE  A  PREACHER 

passage,  "  preach,"  "  heal,"  "  deliver," 
"  give  liberty,"  "  proclaim  "  !  Can  we  ex- 
tract the  common  virtue  of  the  words? 
Have  they  any  general  significance?  Is 
there  any  common  denominator?  May 
we  not  say  that  in  all  these  varied  words 
there  is  a  pervasive  sentiment  and  purpose 
of  emancipation?  Are  they  not  all  sug- 
gestive of  an  opening,  an  emergence,  a 
release?  Let  us  review  the  words:  "  Sent 
to  preach";  to  give  the  open  vision  of 
divine  grace  to  those  whose  thought  is 
darkly  bounded  and  imprisoned.  "  To 
heal  ";  to  give  the  grace  of  comfort  to  those 
who  are  crushed  beneath  the  unintelligible 
weight  of  sorrow  and  care.  "  To  deliver 
the  captive";  to  give  the  open  spaces  of  a 
noble  freedom  to  all  who  languish  in  any 
form  of  unholy  servitude.  "  To  set  at 
liberty  them  that  are  bruised " ;  to  give 
open  passage  to  all  v/ho  are  lying  with 
broken  wing  or  broken  Jimb,  to  all  whose 
powers  have  been  shattered  by  disappoint- 
ment and  defeat.  "  To  proclaim  the  ac- 
ceptable year  of  the  Lord  " ;  to  announce 

[31] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

the  open  door  in  the  present  hour,  and  to 
say  that  by  God's  grace  there  is  a  present 
right  of  way  from  the  deepest  gloom  of  the 
soul  into  the  radiant  light  of  acceptance 
with  God.  In  all  these  words  there  ap- 
pears to  be  this  general  sense  of  emergence 
and  release.  There  is  an  opening  of  mind, 
an  opening  of  heart,  an  opening  of  eyes,  an 
opening  of  doors.  In  every  word  the  iron 
gate  swings  back  and  there  is  the  sound  of 
the  song  of  freedom. 

Now  in  the  light  of  these  words  dare 
we  take  up  the  Master's  sequence  and  give 
this  same  interpretation  to  our  own  mis- 
sion and  service?  I  think  this  is  our  holy 
privilege.  It  is  one  aspect  of  "  The  prize 
of  the  high  calling  of  God  in  Christ 
Jesus."  "  As  Thou  hast  sent  Me  into  the 
world  even  so  have  I  also  sent  them," — to 
preach,  to  heal,  to  deliver,  to  open  the  iron 
gates,  to  be  the  ambassadors  of  a  glorious 
freedom  for  body,  mind,  and  soul.  Yes,  I 
think  we  may  accept  this  interpreting  light 
upon  our  calling;  the  mission  of  the  apostle 
is  determined  by  the  mission  of  the  Master, 

[32] 


THE  CALL  TO  BE  A  PREACHER 

and  that  mission  is  declared  to  be  one  of 
wide  and  inclusive  emancipation. 

If  this  be  so,  if  we  may  read  our  calling 
in  the  words  of  the  Master,  by  what  method 
are  we  to  follow  the  ministry  of  emancipa- 
tion? We  are  to  follow  it  in  two  ways, 
by  the  service  of  good  news,  and  by  the 
good  news  of  service.  First,  we  are  to 
find  our  mission  in  the  service  of  good 
news.  That  is  our  primary  calling,  to  be 
tellers  of  good  news,  to  be  heralds  of  sal- 
vation. Here  are  the  emphatic  words: 
"Preach!"  and  again,  "Preach!  "  "Pro- 
claim!" "As  ye  go,  preach!"  And  what 
is  to  be  the  theme  of  the  good  news?  This 
we  will  consider  in  greater  detail  later  on. 
But  meanwhile  let  this  be  said.  It  is  to  be 
good  news  about  God.  It  is  to  be  good 
news  about  the  Son  of  God.  It  is  to  be 
good  news  about  the  vanquishing  of  guilt 
and  the  forgiveness  of  sins.  It  is  to  be 
good  news  about  the  subjection  of  the 
world  and  the  flesh  and  the  devil.  It  is  to 
be  good  news  about  the  transfiguration  of 
sorrow  and  the  withering  of   a  thousand 

[33] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

bitter  roots  of  anxiety  and  care.  It  is  to 
be  good  news  about  the  stingless  death  and 
the  spoiled  and  beaten  grave.  That  is  to 
be  our  first  mission  to  the  world, — to  be 
carriers  of  good  news.  That  is  to  be  our 
glorious  mission.  We  are  to  go  about  our 
ways  finding  men  and  women  shattered 
and  broken,  with  care  upon  them,  and 
sorrow  upon  them,  and  death  upon  them, 
wrinlded  in  body  and  mind,  and  with  the 
light  flickering  out  in  their  souls.  And  we 
are  to  bring  them  the  news  which  will  be 
like  oil  to  djang  lamps,  which  will  be  as 
vitalizing  air  to  those  who  faint,  which  will 
be  like  the  power  of  new  wing  to  birds  that 
have  been  broken  in  flight.  "  The  words 
that  I  speak  unto  you,  they  are  spirit 
and  they  are  life." 

But  we  are  not  only  to  preach  the  good 
news.  We  are  also  to  incarnate  it  in  vital 
service.  Our  mission  is  to  be  one  of  eman- 
cipation both  by  word  and  w^ork,  by  gospel 
and  by  crusade.  Everywhere  we  are  con- 
fronted by  big  iniquities,  frowning  like 
embattled   castles.     Around   us   are   grim 

*  [34] 


THE  CALL  TO  BE  A  PREACHER 

prisons  where  innocence  lies  entombed.  All 
over  the  world  captives  are  held  in  a 
thousand  evil  servitudes.  And  here  is  our 
mission,  which  is  reflected  from  the  mission 
of  our  Lord,  "  He  hath  sent  me  to  give 
liberty  to  the  captives."  The  word  of 
grace  is  to  be  confirmed  by  gracious  deeds. 
The  Gospel  is  to  be  corroborated  by  the 
witness  of  daring  exploits.  The  herald  is 
to  be  a  knight,  revealing  the  power  of  his 
message  in  his  own  chivalry.  That  is  to 
say,  there  is  laid  upon  the  preacher  the 
supreme  privilege  of  obligation  and  sacri- 
fice. He  is  to  be  filled  with  the  "  love  and 
pity  "  which  are  the  very  energies  of  re- 
demption. The  good  news  without  the 
good  deed  will  leave  us  impotent.  But  the 
spirit  of  sacrificial  love  will  make  us  in- 
vincible. 

There  is  much  that  might  make  us  afraid. 
The  very  terms  of  our  commission  might 
fill  us  with  dread.  "  I  send  you  forth  as 
sheep  in  the  midst  of  wolves."  How 
quixotic  the  enterprise  appears  to  be!  Let 
our  thoughts  go  back  to  the  first  preach- 

[35] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

ing  crusaders,  so  apparently  weak  and 
fearless  as  to  be  compared  to  innocent 
sheep!  And  these  men  are  sent  forth  into 
a  wolfish  environment,  where  the  odds  ap- 
pear to  be  overwhelming,  and  the  outlook 
one  of  hopeless  and  cruel  defeat.  And  the 
words  of  the  commission  are  unchanged. 
Still  does  the  Master  say  to  you  and  me, 
"  I  send  you  forth  as  sheep  in  the  midst 
of  wolves," — against  cruelty,  and  lust,  and 
greed,  and  indifference,  against  every 
form  of  sin,  against  an  army  of 
antagonists,  fierce  and  terrific.  What 
is  to  be  our  inspiration  and  our  con- 
fidence? I  will  dare  to  place  two  separated 
passages  side  by  side  that  I  may  offer  you 
the  heartening  secret  of  their  communion. 
And  here  is  one  of  them:  "As  Thou  hast 
sent  Me  into  the  world."  And  here  is  the 
other:  "Behold  the  Lamb!"  The  Lord 
who  was  sent  into  the  brutal  or  indifferent 
environment  of  man  was  the  Lamb  of  God ! 
The  Lamb  came  among  wolves.  And  now 
let  me  place  another  pair  of  passages  side 
by  side,  and  the  analogy  will  help  us  for- 

[36] 


THE  CALL  TO  BE  A  PREACHER 

ward  to  the  insi:)iration  we  need.  And  here 
is  one:  "  Even  so  have  I  also  sent  them  into 
the  world."  And  here  is  the  other:  "  I  send 
you  forth  as  sheep."  The  Lamb  of  God 
Himself  came  among  the  wolves.  And 
He  sends  His  sheep  among  the  same  fierce 
and  destructive  presences.  The  Lamb 
sends  forth  the  sheep! 

And  how  fared  it  with  the  Lamb?  I 
turn  to  the  Word  of  God  and  I  read: 
"  These  shall  make  war  with  the  Lamb  and 
the  Lamb  shall  overcome."  And  I  read 
again:  "And  I  beheld,  and  in  the  midst 
of  the  throne  stood  the  Lamb."  The  Lamb 
was  triumphant.  It  was  not  the  wolf  who 
conquered,  but  the  Lamb,  and  in  the  vic- 
tory of  the  Lamb  the  safety  and  triumph 
of  the  sheep  are  assured.  That  is  our 
inspiration.  "  In  the  world  ye  shall  have 
tribulation,  but  be  of  good  cheer,  I  have 
overcome  the  world."  We  are  "  called 
,  with  a  holy  calling."  Our  mission  is  beset 
with  antagonisms.  The  way  will  rarely, 
if  ever,  be  easy.  But  in  chivalrous  faith 
and  obedience  our  victory  is  secure. 

[37] 


THE   PERILS    OF   THE   PREACHER 

**Lest .  .  .  i  myself  should  be  a  castaway  *' 


LECTURE.     T    W     O 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

''Lest  ,  .  ,  I  myself  should  be  a  cast- 
away '' 

I  BEGIN  our  consideration  of  the  perils 
of  the  preacher  by  quoting  this  startling 
word  of  the  Apostle  Paul.  "  I  there- 
fore so  run,  not  as  uncertainly:  so  fight 
I,  not  as  one  that  beateth  the .  air ;  but  I 
keep  under  my  body,  and  bring  it  into 
subjection:  lest  that  by  any  means,  when 
I  have  preached  to  others,  I  myself  should 
be  a  castaway."  And,  as  you  well  know, 
the  word  which  is  here  translated  "  cast- 
away," and  in  the  Revised  Version  is  trans- 
lated "  rejected,"  is  applied  to  things  that 
cannot  bear  the  standard  test,  that  reveal 
themselves  to  be  counterfeit  and  worthless, 
like  coins  which  have  no  true  "  ring  "  about 
them,  and  which  are  flung  aside  as  spurious 
and  base.  And  the  Apostle  Paul  foresees 
the  possible  peril  of  his  becoming  a  coun- 
terfeit coin  in  the  sacred  currency,  a  spuri- 

[41] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

ous  dealer  in  sublime  realities,  a  worthless 
guide  to  "  the  unsearchable  riches  of 
Christ."  He  sees  the  insurgent  danger  of 
men  who  are  busy  among  holy  things  be- 
coming profane.  A  man  may  be  dealing 
with  "  gold  thrice  refined,"  and  yet  he 
himself  may  be  increasingly  mingled  with 
the  dross  of  the  world.  He  may  lead  others 
into  the  heavenly  way  and  he  may  lose  the 
road  himself.  He  may  be  diligent  in  his 
holy  calling  and  yet  be  deepeningly  degen- 
erate. It  is  the  ominous  forecast  of  what 
is  perhaps  life's  saddest  and  most  pathetic 
tragedy,  the  spectacle  of  a  man  who,  hav- 
ing "  preached  to  others,"  should  himself 
become  "  a  castaway." 

Now  the  Apostle  Paul  foresaw  the  peril, 
and  studiously  and  prayerfully  provided 
against  it.  And  you  and  I  have  been 
chosen  to  walk  along  his  road,  and  we  shall 
encounter  all  the  dangers  that  infest  it. 
None  of  us  will  be  immune  from  their  be- 
setment.  Perils  are  ever  the  attendants  of 
privilege,  and  they  are  thickest  round  about 
the  most  exalted  stations.     I  suppose  that 

[42] 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

every  profession  and  every  trade  has  its 
own  peculiar  enemies,  just  as  every  kind 
of  flower  is  attacked  by  its  own  peculiar 
pests.  And  I  suppose  that  every  profes- 
sion might  claim  that  these  distinctive  mi- 
crobes are  most  subtle  and  plentiful  in  its 
own  particular  sphere  of  service.  And  yet 
I  strongly  believe  that  the  artisan  w^ho 
works  with  his  hands,  or  the  trader  who  is 
busy  in  commerce,  or  the  professional  man 
who  labours  in  law,  or  in  medicine,  or  in 
literature,  or  in  music,  or  art,  is  not  able 
to  conceive  the  insidious  and  deadly  perils 
which  infest  the  life  of  a  minister.  The 
pulpit  is  commonly  regarded  as  a  charmed 
circle,  where  "  the  destruction  that  wasteth 
at  noonday  "  never  arrives.  We  are  looked 
upon  as  the  children  of  favour,  "  delicately 
apparelled,''  shielded  in  many  ways  from 
the  cutting  blasts  that  swxep  across  the 
common  life.  It  is  supposed  there  is  many 
a  bewitching  temptation  that  never  dis- 
plays its  shining  wares  at  our  window! 
There  is  many  a  gnawing  care  that  never 
shows  its  teeth  at  our  gate!     We  are  told 

[43] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

we  have  the  genial  times,  and  the  "  soft 
raiment,"  and  that  for  us  life  is  more  a 
garden  than  a  battlefield. 

But,  gentlemen,  the  fatal  defect  in  the 
statement  is  this: — it  reasons  as  though 
"  privilege "  spells  "  protection,"  and  as 
though  soft  conditions  provide  immunity. 
It  reasons  as  though  a  garden  is  a  fortress, 
and  as  though  a  favoured  life  is  a  strong 
defence.  It  reasons  as  though  a  garden 
can  never  be  a  battlefield,  when  after  all 
a  garden  was  the  scene  of  the  hardest  fight- 
ing in  the  battle  of  Waterloo.  Privilege 
never  confers  security:  it  rather  provides 
the  conditions  of  the  fiercest  strife.  I 
gladly  and  gratefully  recognize  that  the 
minister  is  laden  with  many  privileges, 
but  I  also  recognize  that  the  measure  of 
our  privileges  is  just  the  measure  of  our 
dangers,  that  the  inventor}^  of  our  garden 
would  also  give  an  inventory  of  the  destruc- 
tive pests  that  haunt  every  flower,  and 
shrub,  and  tree.  It  is  literally  and  awfully 
true  that  "  where  grace  abounds "  death 
also  may  abound,  for  our  spiritual  favours 

[44] 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

may  be  either  "  a  savour  of  life  unto  life 
or  of  death  unto  death."  We  may  lead 
people  into  wealth  and  we  ourselves  may  be 
counterfeit:  we  may  preach  to  others  while 
we  ourselves  are  castaways.^  I  propose, 
therefore,  to  examine  some  of  these  perils 
which  fatten  upon  privilege,  these  enemies 
which  will  haunt  you  to  the  very  end  of 
your  ministerial  life. 

The  first  peril  which  I  will  name,  and  I 
name  it  first  because  its  touch  is  so  fatal, 
is  that  of  deadening  familiarity  with  the 
sublime.  You  will  not  have  been  long  in 
the  ministry  before  you  discover  that  it  is 
possible  to  be  fussily  busy  about  the  Holy 
Place  and  yet  to  lose  the  wondering  sense 
of  the  Holy  Lord.  We  may  have  much  to 
do  with  religion  and  yet  not  be  religious. 
We  may  become  mere  guide-posts  when  we 
were  intended  to  be  guides.  We  may  in- 
dicate the  way,  and  yet  not  be  found  in  it. 
We  may  be  professors  but  not  pilgrims. 
Our  studies  may  be  workshops  instead  of 
"  upper  rooms."  Our  share  in  the  table- 
provisions  may  be  that  of  analysts  rather 

[45] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

than  guests.  We  may  become  so  absorbed 
in  words  that  we  forget  to  eat  the  Word. 
And  the  consummation  of  the  subtle  peril 
may  be  this:  we  may  come  to  assume  that 
fine  talk  is  fine  living,  that  expository  skill 
is  deep  piety,  and  while  we  are  fondly  hug- 
ging the  non-essentials  the  veritable  essence 
escapes. 

I  think  this  is  one  of  the  most  insidious, 
and  perhaps  the  predominant  peril  in  a 
preacher's  life.  A  man  may  live  in  moun- 
tain-country and  lose  all  sense  of  the 
heights.  And  that  is  a  terrible  impoverish- 
ment, when  mountain-country  comes  to 
have  the  ordinary  significance  of  the  plains. 
The  preacher  is  called  upon  to  dwell  among 
the  stupendous  concerns  of  human  interest. 
The  mountainous  aspects  of  life  are  his 
familiar  environment.  He  lives  almost 
every  hour  in  sight  of  the  immensities  and 
the  eternities — the  awful  sovereignty  of 
God,  and  the  glorious  yet  cloud-capped 
mysteries  of  redeeming  grace.  But  here  is 
the  possible  tragedy:  he  may  live  in  con- 
stant sight  of  these  tremendous  presences 

[46] 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

and  may  cease  to  see  them.  They  may 
come  to  be  mere  "  lay-figures "  of  the 
study,  no  longer  the  appalling  dignities 
which  prostrate  the  soul  in  adoration  and 
awe.  That  is  our  peril.  We  have  to  be 
constantly  talking  about  these  things,  and 
the  talking  may  be  briskly  continued  even 
when  the  things  themselves  have  been  lost. 
We  may  retain  our  interest  in  philosophy, 
and  lose  our  reverence.  We  may  keep 
up  a  busy  traffic  in  words,  but  "  the  awe 
of  the  heights  "  no  longer  makes  us  tremble 
with  urgent  actuality.  We  may  talk  about 
the  mountains,  and  we  may  do  it  as  blind 
insensitive  children  of  the  plains.  The 
plentifulness  of  our  privileges  may  make 
us  numb.  "  Will  a  man  leave  the  snow 
of  Lebanon?"  The  calamity  is  that  we 
may  do  so  and  never  know  it. 

The  second  peril  in  the  preacher's  life 
which  I  will  name  is  that  of  deadening 
familiarity  with  the  commonplace,  I  have 
mentioned  the  possibility  of  our  becoming 
callous  to  the  presence  of  the  heights: 
there  is  an  equally  subtle  peril  of  our  be- 

[47] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

y  coming  dead  to  the  bleeding  tragedies  of 
common  life.  Dark  presences  which  come 
to  others  only  as  occasional  and  startling 
visitors  are  in  our  fellowship  every  day. 
They  move  in  our  daily  surroundings. 
Experiences  which  move  and  arrest  the 
business-man,  because  they  are  unusual, 
are  the  ordinary  furniture  of  our  lives. 
And  the  ever  possible  danger  is  this,  that 
in  becoming  accustomed  to  tragedy  we  may 
also  become  callous. 

There  is,  for  example,  our  familiarity 
with  death.  I  know  there  is  something 
about  Death  so  mysterious,  so  imperious, 
that  he  never  passes  as  quite  an  ordinary 
presence.  The  chill  air  of  his  passing  is 
never  altogether  lost.  And  yet  you  will 
find  it  is  possible  to  be  strangely  unmoved 
in  the  house  of  death.  There  will  be  break- 
ing hearts  around  you,  among  whom  Death 
has  come  like  some  cruel  beast,  heedlessly 
breaking  and  crushing  the  fragile  reeds 
on  his  way  to  the  water-courses,  and  they 
are  feeling  that  they  will  never  be  able  to 
lift  themselves  again  into  the  sweet  sunny 

[48] 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

light  and  air.  And  you  may  be  like  an  in- 
different outsider  in  the  tragedy!  I  know 
that  it  may  be  one  of  God's  merciful  deal- 
ings with  us,  as  a  necessity  of  our  labour, 
to  put  the  gracious  cushion  of  custom  be- 
tween us  and  the  immediate  blows  of  dark 
and  heavy  circumstance.  No  man  could 
do  his  work  if  the  vital  drain  were  to  be 
unrelieved.  If  custom  gave  us  no  defence 
we  should  faint  from  sheer  exhaustion. 
The  impact  of  the  blow  upon  us  is  re- 
strained in  order  that  we  may  minister  to 
those  upon  whom  it  has  fallen  with  naked 
and  staggering  force.  But  that  possible 
ministry  becomes  impossible  if  the  cushion 
becomes  a  stone.  If  familiarity  implies 
insensibility  then  our  powers  of  consolation 
are  lost. 

Now  this  is  one  of  our  perils,  and  it  is 
very  real  and  immediate.  The  peril  can  be 
avoided,  but  there  it  is,  one  of  the  possible 
dangers  in  your  way.  Familiarity  may  be 
deadly,  and  we  may  be  as  dead  men  in 
the  usually  disturbing  presences  of  sorrow, 
and  pain,  and  death.     The  pathetic  may 

[49] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

cease  to  melt  us,  the  tragic  may  cease  to 
shock  us.  We  may  lose  our  power 
to  weep.  The  very  fountain  of  our 
tears  may  be  dried  up.  The  visitations 
which  arouse  and  vivify  our  fellowmen 
may  put  us  into  a  fatal  sleep.  A  stupor 
begotten  of  familiarity  may  make  us  re- 
mote from  the  common  need.  To  use  the 
apostle's  phrase,  we  may  become  "  past 
feeling." 

The  third  ministerial  peril  is  the  possible 
perversion  of  our  emotional  life.  The 
preaching  of  the  gospel  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  demands  and  creates  in  the  preacher 
a  certain  power  of  worthy  emotion,  and 
this  very  emotion  becomes  the  centre  of  new 
ministerial  danger.  For  the  emotions  can 
become  perverted.  They  may  become  un- 
healthily intense  and  inflammatory.  They 
may  become  defiled.  The  emotional  may 
so  easily  become  the  neurotic.  I  do  not 
know  just  how  to  express  the  danger  I  see. 
A  preacher's  emotion  may  be  so  constantly 
and  so  profoundly  wrought  upon  that  his 
moral  defences  are  imperilled.     Exagger- 

[50] 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

ated  emotion  can  be  like  a  flood  that  will 
overwhelm  and  submerge  his  moral  dykes, 
and  plunge  him  into  irretrievable  disaster. 
I  remember  one  very  eventful  day  when 
I  had  a  long  walk  with  Hugh  Price 
Hughes  through  the  city  of  London.  In 
the  course  of  our  conversation  he  suddenly 
stopped,  and  gripping  my  arm  in  his  im- 
pulsive way,  he  said,  "  Jowett,  the  evangel- 
ical preacher  is  always  on  the  brink  of  the 
abj^ss!  "  There  may  be  excessive  colouring 
in  the  judgment,  but  it  indicates  a  grave 
peril  which  it  is  imperative  to  name,  and 
against  which  we  should  be  on  our  guard. 
I  think  I  know  what  he  meant.  Preaching 
that  sways  the  preacher's  emotions,  moving 
him  like  a  gale  upon  the  sea,  makes  great 
demands  upon  the  nerves,  and  sometimes 
produces  nervous  exhaustion.  That  is  to 
say,  the  evangelical  preacher,  with  his  con- 
stant business  in  great  facts  and  verities 
that  sway  the  feelings,  may  become  the  vic- 
tim of  nervous  depression,  and  in  his  nerv- 
ous impoverishment  his  moral  defences  may 
be  relaxed,  the  enemy  may  leap  within  his 

[  51  ] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

gates,  and  his  spirit  may  be  imprisoned  in 
dark  and  carnal  bondage.  "  He  that  hath 
ears  to  hear  let  him  hear,"  and  "  let  him 
that  thinketh  he  standeth  take  heed  lest  he 
fall." 

And  now  let  me  mention  a  peril  which 
will  be  more  evident  than  the  one  I  have 
just  named,  because  we  meet  it  along  every 
road  of  life,  and  because  we  make  its 
acquaintance  long  before  we  take  up  the 
actual  work  of  the  ministry.  I  mean  the 
perilous  gravitation  of  the  world,  I  say 
you  may  meet  that  danger  everywhere, 
but  nowhere  will  you  meet  it  in  a  more  in- 
sidious and  persistent  fashion  than  in  the 
Christian  ministry.  It  is  round  about  us 
like  a  malaria,  and  we  may  become  suscep- 
tible to  its  contagion.  It  offers  itself  as  a 
climate,  and  we  may  be  led  into  accepting 
it  as  the  atmosphere  of  our  lives.  I  sup- 
pose that  one  of  the  deepest  characteristics 
of  worldliness  is  an  illicit  spirit  of  com- 
promise. It  calls  itself  by  many  agreeable 
names,  such  as  "  expediency,"  "  tactful- 
ness,"  "  diplomacy,"  and  it  sometimes  as- 

[52] 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

cends  to  higher  rank  and  claims  kinship 
with  "  geniality,"  *'  sociability,"  and 
"  friendship."  But,  despite  this  fine  bor- 
rowed attire,  the  worldly  spirit  of  com- 
promise is  just  the  sacrifice  of  the  moral 
ideal  to  the  popular  standard,  and  the  sub- 
jection of  personal  conviction  to  current 
opinion.  There  is  a  half-cynical  counsel 
given  in  the  Book  of  Ecclesiastes  which 
exactly  describes  what  I  am  seeking  to 
express.  "  Be  not  righteous  overmuch. 
.  .  .  Be  not  overmuch  wicked."  I  think 
this  moral  advice  enshrines  the  very  genius 
of  worldliness.  Worldly  compromise  takes 
the  medium-line  between  white  and  black, 
and  wears  an  ambiguous  grey.  It  is  a 
partisan  of  neither  midnight  nor  noon.  It 
prefers  the  twilight,  which  is  just  a  mixture 
of  midnight  and  noon  and  is  equally  related 
to  both.  It  is,  therefore,  a  very  specious 
presence,  fraternizing  with  all  sorts  and 
conditions  of  men,  nodding  acquaintedly  to 
the  saint,  and  intimately  recognizing  the 
sinner,  at  home  everywhere,  mixing  with 
the  worshippers  in  the  temple,  or  with  the 

[53] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

money-changers  in  the  temple  courts.  Grey 
is  a  very  useful,  colour,  it  is  in  keeping 
with  a  wedding  or  a  funeral.  And  yet 
the  word  of  Holj^  Writ  is  clear  and  decisive, 
raising  the  most  exalted  standard;  "Keep 
thy  garments  always  white." 

Now  you  will  meet  that  spirit  of  worldly 
compromise,  and  you  will  meet  it  in  its 
most  seductive  form.  It  will  seek  to  de- 
termine the  character  of  your  personal  life. 
It  will  entice  you  to  wear  grey  habits  when 
you  mix  with  the  business-men  of  your 
congregation,  and  to  "  talk  grey  "  in  your 
conversation  with  them.  A  certain  suavity 
or  urbanity  will  offer  itself  as  a  medium, 
and  you  will  loll  about  v/ith  relaxed  moral 
ideals.  This  is  no  idle  fancy.  I  am  de- 
scribing the  road  along  which  many  a  min- 
ister has  passed  to  deadly  degeneracy  and 
impotence.  We  are  tempted  to  leave  our 
"  noontide  lights  "  behind  in  our  study,  and 
to  move  among  men  of  the  world  with  a 
dark  lantern  which  we  can  manipulate  to 
suit  our  company.  We  pay  the  tribute  of 
smiles  to  the  low  business  standard.     We 

[54] 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

pay  the  tribute  of  laughter  to  the  fashion- 
able jest.  We  pay  the  tribute  of  easy 
tolerance  to  ambiguous  pleasures.  We 
soften  everj^thing  to  a  comfortable  acquies- 
cence. We  seek  to  be  "  all  things  to  all 
men  "  to  please  all.  We  "  run  with  the 
hare "  and  we  "  hunt  with  the  hounds." 
We  try  to  "  serve  God  and  mammon."  | 
We  become  the  victims  of  illicit  compro- 
mise. There  is  nothing  distinctive  about 
our  character.  It  is  neither  one  thing  nor 
another.  We  are  of  the  kind  described  by 
the  Prophet  Isaiah:  "Thy  wine  is  mixed 
with  water,"  or  like  those  portrayed  by 
Jeremiah:  "Reprobate  silver  shall  men 
call  thee." 

But  in  the  perilous  gravitation  of  worldli- 
ness  there  is  more  than  an  illicit  spirit  of 
compromise:  there  is  what  I  will  call  the 
fascination  of  the  glittering.  All  through 
our  ministry  we  are  exposed  to  the  tempta- 
tions which  met  our  Lord  in  the  wilder- 
ness, and  which  met  Him  again  and  again 
before  He  reached  the  cross.  "  All  these 
things  will  I  give  Thee  if  Thou  wilt  fall 

[55] 


\j 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

down  and  worship  me."  It  was  the  pres- 
entation of  carnal  splendour,  the  offer  of 
an  immediate  prize.  The  tempter  used  the 
lure  of  the  "  showy,"  and  he  sought  to 
eclipse  the  vision  of  reality.  He  used  the 
glittering  to  entice  the  eyes  away  from  the 
"  gold  thrice  refined." 

That  peril  will  meet  you  on  the  verj^ 
day  your  ministry  begins.  Nay,  it  is  with 
you  now  in  the  days  of  preparation.  Even 
now  you  may  be  arrested  by  fireworks  and 
you  may  lose  the  vision  of  the  stars.  On 
your  ordination  day  you  may  be  the  victim 
of  worldliness,  and  your  soul  may  be  pros- 
trate before  Mammon.  You  may  be  seek- 
ing "  the  Kingdoms  of  the  world  and  the 
glory  of  them";  in  quest  of  "glitter" 
rather  than  true  "  gold."  We  are  tempted 
to  covet  a  showy  eloquence  rather  than  the 
deep,  unobtrusive  "  spirit  of  power."  We 
may  become  more  intent  on  full  pews  than 
on  redeemed  souls.  We  may  be  more  con- 
cerned to  have  a  swelling  membership-roll 
than  to  have  the  names  of  our  people 
"  written  in  Heaven."     We  may  be  more 

[56] 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

keen  for  "  the  praises  of  men  "  than  for 
"  the  good  pleasure  of  God."  These  are 
the  perils  of  worldliness.  Our  besetting 
peril  is  to  go  after  the  "  showy,"  to 
**  strive,"  and  "  cry,"  to  let/<^r  voice  be 
heard  "  in  the  streets,"  to  follow  the  glit- 
ter instead  of  "  the  gleam,"  and  to  be  sat- 
isfied if  our  names  are  sounded  pleas- 
antly in  the  crumbling  halls  of  worldly 
fame. 

I  have  thus  mentioned  many  perils  which 
will  meet  you  in  your  calling,  and  they 
have  this  common  and  fatal  tendency,  to 
snare  you  away  from  God.  They  will 
lead  you  away  from  "  the  snows  of  Leba- 
non," from  the  great  gathering-ground  of 
your  resources,  where  the  mighty  rivers 
rise  which  bring  to  men  the  dynamic  of  a 
strong  and  efficient  ministry.  And,  surely, 
of  all  pathetic  sights  on  God's  earth  there 
is  none  more  pathetic  than  a  preacher  of 
the  gospel  who,  by  the  benumbing  power 
of  custom,  or  by  the  wiles  and  guiles  of 
the  world,  has  been  separated  from  his 
God!    For  when  a  preacher,  by  an  unhal- 

[57] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

lowed  absorption  in  the  mere  letter  of  truth, 
or  by  a  successful  invasion  of  worldliness, 
gets  away  from  God,  the  direful  conse- 
quences are  immediate  and  destructive. 
Let  me  mention  some  of  the  results. 

First  of  all,  our  characters  will  lose  their 
spirituality.  We  shall  lack  that  fine  fra- 
grance which  makes  people  know  that  we 
dwell  in  "  the  King's  gardens."  There  will 
be  no  "  heavenly  air "  about  our  spirits. 
'Atmospheres  will  not  be  mysteriously 
changed  by  our  presence.  We  shall  no 
longer  bring  the  strength  of  mountain-air 
into  close  and  fusty  fellowships.  And, 
surely,  this  ought  to  be  one  of  the  most 
gracious  services  of  a  Christian  minister, — 
by  his  very  presence  to  create  a  climate  by 
which  the  faint  and  overburdened  are  re- 
vived. There  is  an  exquisite  line  in  Paul's 
portrayal  of  his  friend  Onesiphorus  which 
describes  this  very  characteristic  of  minis- 
terial service.  "  He  oft  refreshed  rae,"  and 
the  refreshment  is  just  the  bringing  of 
fresh  air,  a  vitalizing  breath,  a  restoring 
climate  for  faint  and  weary  souls!     The 

[58] 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

coming  of  Onesiphorus  was  like  the  open- 
ing of  a  window  to  one  held  in  close  im- 
prisonment. He  brought  an  atmosphere 
with  him,  and  he  himself  had  found  it  in 
the  breathing  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  My 
brethren,  it  is  our  spirituality  that  pro- 
vides that  atmosphere  of  refreshment,  and 
it  is  active  in  our  silences  as  well  as  in 
our  speech.  If  we  are  snared  away  from 
God  that  atmosphere  is  devitalized,  our 
personal  "  air  "  loses  its  power  of  quicken- 
ing, and  no  "  faint-heart  "  calls  down  bless- 
ings as  we  pass  by. 

But  a  second  thing  happens  when,  for 
any  cause,  we  are  separated  from  the  Lord 
w^hom  we  have  vowed  to  serve.  Our  speech 
lacks  a  mysterious  impressiveness.  We 
are  wordj^  but  we  are  not  mighty.  We  | 
are  eloquent  but  w^e  do  not  persuade. 
We  are  reasonable  but  we  do  not  convince. 
We  preach  much  but  we  accomplish  lit- 
tle. We  teach  but  we  do  not  w^oo.  We 
make  a  "  show  of  power  "  but  men  do  not 
move.  Men  come  and  go,  they  may  be 
interested  or  amused,  but  they  do  not  bow 

[  59  ] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

in  penitent  surrender  at  the  feet  of  the 
Lord.  We  go  on  talking,  talking,  talk- 
ing, and  the  haunts  of  "  the  evil  one  "  ring 
with  scorn  of  our  futility.  Our  words  are 
just  the  "  enticing  words  of  man's  wis- 
dom," they  are  not  "  in  demonstration  of 
the  Spirit  and  of  power." 

And  as  it  is  with  our  preaching  so  it  is 
with  our  enterprises.  If  our  perils  over- 
whelm us  our  enterprises  become  pastimes 
rather  than  crusades.  We  are  busy  but  we 
are  futile.  We  may  be  always  active  but 
the  strongholds  do  not  fall.  We  pass  mul- 
titudes of  resolutions  but  nobody  quakes. 
We  form  clubs  and  societies  but  there  is 
no  vital  movement  towards  God.  The 
central  fact  of  the  matter  is  this:  when  a 
preacher  is  snared  away  from  God  and 
from  the  good-pleasure  of  God  he  does 
not  count,  and  he  is,  therefore,  not  counted, 
and  evil  dances  flippantly  along  the  open 
road  heedless  of  his  presence,  because  he 
has  no  magic  weapon  by  which  it  can  be 
either  crippled  or  destroyed. 

But  I  turn  to  a  more  positive  aspect 

[60] 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

of  my  theme.  How  can  all  these  perils  be 
avoided?  Nay,  how  can  we  make  our  perils 
minister  to  a  richer,  stronger,  and  more 
fruitful  life?  For  that  is  life's  true  victory, 
not  to  ignore  dangers  but  to  despoil  them. 
It  is  possible  to  take  the  strength  of  a  peril 
and  enlist  it  in  our  own  resources.  That 
is  the  privilege  of  temptation:  we  can 
sack  it  and  transfer  the  wealth  of  its 
strength  into  the  treasury  of  our  own  will. 
That  is  a  great  principle!  The  minister's 
life  has  many  perils,  and  he  has,  therefore, 
many  possible  stores  of  enrichment.  We 
cannot  affirm  this  to  ourselves  too  often 
and  too  confidently:  conquered  perils  be- 
come allies:  in  every  victory  there  is  a 
transfer  of  dynamics.  Perils  may  indicate 
our  possible  impoverishment:  they  equally 
indicate  our  possible  enrichment. 

How,  then,  is  it  to  be  done?  By 
studious  and  reverent  regard  to  the  su- 
preme commonplaces  of  the  spiritual  life. 
We  must  assiduously  attend  to  the  cul- 
ture of  our  souls.  We  must  sternly  and 
systematically  make  time  for  prayer,  and 

[61] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

for  the  devotional  reading  of  the  Word 
of  God.  We  must  appoint  private  seasons 
for  the  deliberate  and  personal  appropria- 
tion of  the  Divine  Word,  for  self-examina- 
tion in  the  presence  of  its  warnings,  for 
self -humbling  in  the  presence  of  its  judg- 
ments, for  self-heartening  in  the  presence 
of  its  promises,  and  for  self-invigoration 
in  the  presence  of  its  glorious  hopes.  In 
the  midst  of  our  fussj^,  restless  activities, 
in  all  the  multitudinous  trifles  which,  like 
a  cloud  of  dust,  threaten  to  choke  our  souls, 
the  minister  must  fence  off  his  quiet  and 
secluded  hours,  and  suffer  no  interference 
or  obtrusion.  I  offer  that  counsel  with 
particular  urgency  now  that  I  have  come 
to  labour  in  this  country.  I  am  profoundly 
convinced  that  one  of  the  gravest  perils 
which  beset  the  ministry  of  this  country 
is  a  restless  scattering  of  energies  over  an 
amazing  multiplicity  of  interests,  which 
leaves  no  margin  of  time  or  of  strength  for 
receptive  and  absorbing  communion  with 
God.  We  are  tempted  to  be  always  "  on 
the  run,"  and  to  measure  our  fruitfulness 

[62] 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

by  our  pace  and  by  the  ground  we  cover  in 
the  course  of  the  week! 

Gentlemen,  we  are  not  always  doing  the 
most  business  when  we  seem  to  be  most 
busy.  We  may  think  we  are  truly  busy 
when  we  are  really  only  restless,  and  a 
little  studied  retirement  would  greatly 
enrich  our  returns.  We  are  great  only 
as  we  are  God-possessed;  and  scrupu- 
lous appointments  in  the  upper  room  with 
the  Master  will  prepare  us  for  the  toil  and 
hardships  of  the  most  strenuous  campaign. 
We  must,  therefore,  hold  firmly  and 
steadily  to  this  primary  principle,  that  of 
all  things  that  need  doing  this  need  is  su- 
preme, to  live  in  intimate  fellowship  with 
God.  Let  us  steadily  hold  a  reasonable 
sense  of  values,  and  assign  each  appointed 
duty  to  its  legitimate  place.  And  in  any 
appointment  of  values  this  would  surely  be 
the  initial  judgment,  that  nothing  can  be 
well  done  if  we  drift  away  from  God. 
Neglected  spiritual  fellowship  means  futil- 
ity all  along  the  road. 

But  the  discipline  of  the  soul  must  be 

[63] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

serious  and  studious.  This  high  culture  must 
not  be  governed  by  haphazard  or  caprice. 
There  must  be  purpose  and  method  and 
regularity.  And  you  may  depend  upon 
it,  that  when  you  give  yourselves  to  soul- 
culture  in  this  serious  way,  it  is  a  travail 
and  not  a  pastime.  If  it  were  easy  it  might 
scarcely  be  worth  counselling:  it  is  tre- 
mendously difficult,  but  its  rewards  are 
infinite.  One  of  the  most  cultured  spirits 
in  modern  Methodism,  a  man  whose  style 
is  as  strong  as  his  thoughts  are  lofty,  has 
recently  given  this  judgment  as  he  looked 
back  upon  the  years  of  his  ministry:  "  I 
have  not  failed  to  study:  I  have  not  failed 
to  visit:  I  have  not  failed  to  write  and 
meditate:  but  I  have  failed  to  pray.  .  .  . 
Now  why  have  I  not  prayed?  Sometimes 
because  I  did  not  like  it:  at  other  times 
because  I  hardly  dared:  and  yet  at  other 
times  because  I  had  something  else  to  do. 
Let  us  be  very  frank.  It  is  a  grand  thing  to 
get  a  praying  minister.  ...  I  have  heard 
men  talk  about  prayer  who  never  prayed 
in   their   lives.      They   thought    they    did: 

[64] 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

but  when  you  have  heard  them,  they  made 
their  own  confession  in  a  ruthless  way." 
These  sentences  lift  the  veil  upon  a  naked 
experience,  and  they  expose  the  solemn 
fact  that  prayer  is  very  costly,  even  at 
the  expense  of  blood,  and  that  churches 
which  have  praying  ministers  may  not 
realize  the  travail  by  which  the  power  is 
gained.  We  are  permitted  to  look  upon 
our  Master  as  He  prays.  "  In  the  days 
of  His  flesh  He  offered  up  prayers  and 
supplications  with  strong  crying  and  tears." 
It  was  a  holy  and  a  costly  business.  "  And 
being  in  an  agony  He  prayed  more 
earnestly,  and  His  sweat  was  as  it  were 
great  drops  of  blood  falling  down  to  the 
ground."  There  was  something  here 
which  we  can  never  share,  and  yet  there 
is  something  which  we  must  share  if  we  are 
leagued  with  the  Lord  in  the  ministry  of 
intercession,  and  enter  into  "  the  fellowship 
of  His  sufferings." 

Perhaps  I  cannot  better  illustrate  the 
costliness  of  this  intensive  soul-culture  than 
by   the   example   of   Dr.   Andrew   Bonar. 

[65] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

• 

Dr.  Eonar  laboured  in  Scotland  a  genera- 
tion or  two  ago,  and  he  adorned  his  ministry 
by  a  very  saintly  life  and  by  very  fruitful 
service.  He  kept  a  private  diary  or  jour- 
nal, contained  in  two  small  volumes,  con- 
taining regular  entries  from  1828  to  within 
a  few  weeks  of  his  death  in  1892.  His 
daughter  has  permitted  this  most  priceless 
record  of  a  soul's  pilgrimage  to  be  given 
to  the  world,  "  in  the  belief  that  the  voice 
now  silent  on  earth  will  still  be  heard  in 
these  pages,  calling  on  us  as  from  the  other 
world  to  be  '  followers  of  them  who, 
through  faith  and  patience,  are  inheriting 
the  promises.'  " 

Let  me  give  you  one  or  two  extracts 
from  this  journal.  ''  By  the  grace  of  God 
and  the  strength  of  His  Holy  Spirit  I 
desire  to  lay  down  the  rule  not  to  speak  to 
man  until  I  have  spoken  to  God:  not  to  do 
anj^thing  with  my  hand  until  I  have  been 
upon  my  knees:  not  to  read  letters  or 
papers  until  I  have  read  something  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures."  .  .  .  "In  prayer  in  the 
wood  for  some  time,  having  set  apart  three 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

hours  for  devotion:  felt  drawn  out  much 
to  pray  for  that  peculiar  fragrance  which 
believers  have  about  them,  who  are  very 
much  in  fellowship  with  God."  ..."  Yes- 
terday got  a  day  to  myself  for  prayer. 
With  me  every  time  of  prayer,  or  almost 
every  time,  begins  with  a  conflict."  .  .  . 
"It  is  my  deepest  regret  that  I  pray  so 
little.  I  should  count  the  days,  not  by  what 
I  have  of  new  instances  of  usefulness,  but 
by  the  times  I  have  been  enabled  to  pray 
in  faith,  and  to  take  hold  upon  God."  .  .  . 
"  I  see  that  unless  I  keep  up  short  prayer 
every  day  throughout  the  whole  day,  at 
intervals,  I  lose  the  spirit  of  prayer."  .  .  . 
"  Too  much  work  without  corresponding 
prayer.  To-day  setting  myself  to  pray. 
The  Lord  forthwith  seems  to  send  a  dew 
upon  my  soul."  ..."  Was  enabled  to 
spend  part  of  Thursday  in  the  church, 
praying.  Have  had  great  help  in  study 
since  then."  ..."  Last  night  could  do  lit- 
tle else  but  converse  with  the  Lord  about 
the  awakening  of  souls,  and  ask  it  ear- 
nestly." ..."  Passed  six  hours  to-day  in 

[67] 

\ 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

prayer  and  Scripture-reading,  confessing 
sin,  and  seeking  blessing  for  myself  and  the 
parish." 

Words  like  these,  written  for  no  eye  but 
God's  to  see,  give  deep  significance  to  the 
sentence  I  quoted  from  our  distinguished 
Methodist  friend:  "It  is  a  grand  thing  to 
get  a  praying  minister."  And  another 
thing  becomes  evident  in  the  light  of  this 
journal:  real  prayer  is  the  sharing  of  "  the 
travail  which  makes  God's  Kingdom  come." 
Andrew  Bonar  was  a  strong  minister  of 
"  the  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus,"  and  in  the 
wrestling  communion  of  prayer  he  be- 
came mighty  with  God  and  man.  Men  of 
his  type,  whose  souls  are  elevated  and  re- 
fined by  lofty  fellowships,  approach  every- 
thing "  from  above,"  and  not  "  from  be- 
neath." The  trouble  with  many  of  us  is 
just  this, — we  come  to  our  work  from  low 
levels,  from  the  common  angle,  with  the 
ordinary  points  of  view.  In  that  way  we 
come  to  our  sermons,  and  to  our  pulpits, 
and  to  our  pastoral  work,  and  to  the  busi- 
ness affairs  of  the  Church.    We  are  "  from 

[68] 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

beneath."  We  do  not  come  upon  our 
labours  "  from  above,"  with  the  sense  of 
the  heavenly  about  us,  with  quiet  feeling 
of  elevation,  and  strong  power  of  vision, 
and  the  perception  of  proportion  and  val- 
ues. Men  who  are  "  from  beneath"  belittle 
and  degrade  the  things  they  touch.  Men 
who  are  "  from  above  "  elevate  them,  and 
give  distinction  and  dignity  to  the  meanest 
service.  And  if  any  minister  is  to  live  "  in 
heavenly  places  in  Christ  Jesus,"  and  to 
have  this  lofty  bearing  and  this  uj)lifting 
constraint  in  his  common  work,  if  he  is  to 
be  pure  and  purifying,  he  must  learn  to 
"  pray  without  ceasing." 

And  I  would  add  one  further  word  in 
reference  to  the  discipline  of  character  by 
the  culture  of  the  soul,  and  it  is  this:  it  is 
only  by  this  primary  culture  that  we  gain 
those  secondary  virtues  which  play  so  vital 
a  part  in  our  moral  defences,  and  in  the 
effectiveness  of  our  work.  The  fragrance 
of  character  usually  rises  from  the  ap- 
parently subordinate  virtues,  the  very  vir- 
tues   which    are    commonly    neglected    or 

[69] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

ignored.  All  the  ten  lepers  had  faith,  only 
one  had  gratitude,  and  he  is  the  one  who 
remains  beauteous  and  winsome  in  the  re- 
gard of  the  Lord.  And  this  very  grace  of 
gratitude  fills  a  great  part  in  a  minister's 
life,  and  so  do  courtesy,  and  patience,  and 
that  wonderfully  beautiful  thing  we  call 
considerateness,  and  forbearance,  and 
good-temper.  I  have  called  them  secondary 
virtues,  but  I  am  afraid  I  have  degraded 
their  rank,  so  high  and  so  princely  a  place 
do  they  fill  in  the  shining  equipment  of  the 
Christian  ministry.  And  I  name  them 
here  in  order  to  reaffirm  my  conviction  that 
such  strong  and  attractive  graces  are  not 
"  works  " ;  they  are  "  fruits,"  the  natural 
and  spontaneous  growth  of  much  commun- 
ion with  the  Lord.  We  may  be  fragrant 
in  character,  having  "  beauty  "  as  well  as 
"  strength,"  if  we  abide  in  the  King's 
gardens. 

Gentlemen,  I  have  mentioned  our  perils, 
and  I  have  suggested  our  resources,  and  the 
one  is  more  than  sufficient  for  the  other.  A 
palling    without    difficulty    would    not    be 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  PREACHER 

worth  our  choice.  You  will  have  traps 
and  enemies,  allurements  and  besetments, 
all  along  your  way,  but  "  grace  abounds," 
a'xi  "  the  joy  of  the  Lord  is  your  strength." 


171] 


THE  PREACHER'S   THEMES 

*' Feed  my  sheep  ^* 


LECTURE     .     THREE 


THE  PREACHER'S  THEMES 

"Feed  my  sheep" 

I  AM  to  speak  to  you  to-day  on  the  preach- 
er's themes,  and  I  have  ventured  to  attach 
to  the  title  the  words  of  our  Master,  spoken 
to  Simon  Peter, — "  Feed  my  sheep."  I 
do  not  forget  the  particular  conditions  in 
which  the  counsel  was  born,  but  I  believe 
that,  without  doing  it  any  violence,  it  has 
immediate  significance  for  our  present 
meditation.  The  words  are  descriptive  of 
a  pastoral  relationship,  a  shepherd  caring 
for  the  needs  of  his  flock.  The  shepherd 
is  to  lead  his  sheep  from  the  barrenness  of 
the  wilderness,  or  from  patches  where  the 
herbage  is  scanty  and  unsatisfying,  to 
"  green  pastures  "  and  "  still  waters."  He 
is  to  watch  against  famine  and  drought. 
He  is  to  "  feed  "  his  sheep,  to  "  satisfy  their 
mouth  with  good  things." 

And  ours,  too,  is  the  pastoral  relation- 
ship.    A  flock  is  committed  to  our  care, 

[75] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

There  are  manifold  duties  connected  with 

the  office,  but  we  are  just  now  concerned 

with  the  primary  responsibility  of  defend- 

'^ing  our  sheep  against  the  perils  of  hunger. 

/To  us  is  entrusted  the  solemn  duty  of  find- 
ing food.  The  sheep  are  largely  dependent 
upon  their  shepherds  for  the  riches  or 
poverty  of  their  provisions.  We  are  to 
provide  against  starvation,  or  against  that 
semi-starvation  which  arises  from  innutri- 
tions herbage,  and  which  results  in  weak- 
ness, anaemia,  disease.  We  have  the  choice 
of  the  pastures.  Where  shall  we  choose? 
To  drop  my  metaphor,  you  and  I  are 
X  accounted  responsible,  by  our  very  voca- 
tion, for  the  feeding  of  immortal  souls. 
They  will  look  to  us  for  spiritual  food.  We 

■  are  appointed  to  bring  them  satisfaction, 
to  provide  them  with  strong  and  wholesome 
nutriment  by  which  they  shall  be  competent 
to  carry  their  daily  burden,  and  to  engage 
in  life's  battles  without  faintness  or  ex- 
haustion. That  is  what  you  men  are  going 
out  into  the  world  to  do.  You  are  to  be 
guardians  of  the  church's  health  by  pro- 

[76] 


THE  PREACHER'S  THEMES 


viding  against  moral  and  spiritual  famine. 
You  are  to  see  to  it  that  bread  is  at 
hand  by  which  the  soul  can  be  "  restored." 
When  men  and  women  come  to  your  spirit- 
ual table,  with  aching  cravings  and  desires, 
they  are  to  find  such  provision  as  shall 
send  them  away  with  the  words  of  the 
Psalmist  upon  their  lips:  "He  satisfieth 
the  longing  soul,  and  filleth  the  hungry 
soul  with  goodness";  "We  shall  be  satis- 
fied with  the  goodness  of  Thy  house,  even 
of  Thy  holy  temple!" 

Now  what  shall  we  give  them?  What  is 
our  conception  of  bread?  To  what  aspects 
of  truth  shall  we  lead  the  souls  of  men? 
What  shall  be  the  marrow  of  our  preach- 
ing? What  shall  be  our  themes?  To  what 
clamant  needs  shall  we  address  ourselves? 
"  Life,"*  says  a  very  wise  observer,  "  grows 
more  and  more  severe.  Pain  becomes  more 
inward.  Grief  and  strain  advance  along 
with  physical  security  and  comfort.  Civili- 
zation only  internalizes  the  trouble.  We 
have  fewer  wounds  but  more  weariness. 
We  are  better  cared  for  but  we  have  more 

[77] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

care.  There  is  less  agony,  perhaps,  but 
perhaps  also,  more  misery."  What  "  bread 
of  life  "  shall  we  bring  to  lives  so  burdened 
and  stricken?     What  shall  we  preach? 

I  suppose  it  will  be  the  common  judg- 
ment that  in  many  quarters  a  great  change 
has  taken  place  in  the  character  of  pulpit 
themes,  and  in  the  treatment  of  them. 
Subjects  are  introduced  to-day  which 
would  never  have  been  considered  even  a 
generation  ago.  In  many  instances  the 
subjects  are  not  so  much  themes,  in  the 
sense  of  the  presentation  of  great  truths, 
but  "  iopics,"  the  consideration  of  some 
passing  crisis,  or  of  some  local  combinatior 
of  circumstances,  or  of  some  incident  which 
is  exciting  the  attention  of  the  daily  press. 
JMany  reasons  are  given  to  account  for  this 
change. 

In  the  first  place  it  is  said  to  be  ex- 
plained by  a  broader  and  healthier  concep- 
tion of  the  preacher's  mission.  We  are  told 
that  it  should  be  a  preacher's  ambition  nol 
only  to  have  "  a  spirit  of  wisdom,"  but  alsc 
"  a  spirit  of  understanding,"  not  merely  a 


THE  PREACHER'S  THEMES 


knowledge  of  principles,  but  a  skill  in  their 
practical  application.  He  must  be  more 
than  seer,  he  must  be  architect:  he  must  be 
more  than  architect,  he  must  be  artisan. 
His  preaching  must  do  more  than  indicate 
ideal  and  goal,  it  must  prepare  the  way 
by  which  the  goal  is  reached.  The  preacher 
must  be  more  than  "  a  light  to  my  path," 
he  must  be  "  a  lamp  unto  my  feet."  All 
of  which  means  that  the  preacher  must  be 
more  than  an  idealist,  more  than  a  theolo- 
gian, more  than  an  evangelist :  he  must  busy 
himself  in  the  realms  of  political  and  social 
economics. 

I  have  personally  nothing  to  say  in  dis- 
paragement of  these  momentous  ministries, 
and  I  deeply  honour  the  men  who  are  en- 
gaged in  them.  I  very  gratefully  recognize 
the  peculiarly  special  gifts  and  vision  in 
which  some  men  find  their  equipment  and 
calling  to  this  particular  form  of  service. 
With  equal  readiness  and  gratitude  I 
recognize  the  part  which  some  men  have 
played  in  the  illumination  of  social  ideals, 
in  the  disentanglement  of  social  complexi- 

[79] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

ties,  and  in  the  inspiration  of  social  service. 
But  with  all  this  you  will  permit  me  to 
express  my  own  conviction  as  to  the  perils 
which  beset  a  preacher  in  themes  and  minis- 
tries like  these.  I  am  in  no  doubt  of  my 
position  as  a  citizen,  and  of  my  duties  and 
privileges  in  the  life  of  the  nation.  I  must 
not  be  an  alien  to  the  commonwealth,  living 
remote  and  aloof  from  its  travails  and 
throes.  My  strength  must  be  enlisted  in 
the  vital,  actual  forces  which,  through  tre- 
mendous obstacles,  are  seeking  the  en- 
thronement of  justice  and  truth.  I  can 
also  conceive  it  probable  that  critical  occa- 
sions may  arise  when  it  will  be  the  duty 
of  the  pulpit  to  speak  with  clarion  dis- 
tinctness on  the  policy  of  the  state  or 
nation.  But  even  with  these  admissions  I 
can  clearly  see  this  danger,  that  the  broad- 
ening conception  of  the  preacher's  mission 
f  may  lead  to  the  emphasis  of  the  Old  Testa- 
/vment  message  of  reform  rather  than  to  the 
New  Testament  message  of  redemption. 
Men  may  become  so  absorbed  in  social 
wrongs  as  to  miss  the  deeper  malady  of 

[80] 


THE  PREACHER'S  THEMES 


personal  sin.  They  may  lift  the  rod  of 
oppression  and  leave  the  burden  of  guilt. 
They  may  seek  to  correct  social  dislocations 
and  overlook  the  awful  disorder  of  the 
soul.  It  seems  to  me  that  some  preachers 
have  made  up  their  minds  to  live  in  the 
Old  Testament  rather  than  in  the  New, 
and  to  walk  with  the  prophet  rather  than 
with  the  apostle  and  evangelist.  Amaz- 
ing differences  are  determined  by  a  man's 
choice  of  central  home;  whether,  say,  he 
shall  dwell  in  the  gospel  of  John  or  in  the 
Book  of  Amos,  whether,  say,  in  the  won- 
derful realms  of  the  epistle  to  the  Ephe- 
sians,  or  in  the  smaller  world  of  Isaiah  or 
Jeremiah.  It  is  all  a  matter  of  centre,  of 
dwelling-place,  of  settled  home.  Where 
does  a  preacher  live?  From  what  place  do 
his  journeyings  begin?  To  what  bourn  do 
his  journeyings  return?  These  are  the 
central  tests,  and  my  observation  leads  me 
to  think  that  the  broader  conception  of  the 
preacher's  mission  sometimes  tends  to  lure 
him  away  to  the  circumference  and  sub- 
urbs of  life,  and  to  partially  efface  the  vital, 

[81] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

tremendous    verities    of    redeeming    grace. 
^Jn   the   fascinating   breadth   we   may   lose 
centrality:  things  that  are  secondary  and 
subordinate  may  take  the  throne. 

Let  me  not  be  misunderstood.  While  I 
write  these  words  I  carry  in  my  mind  the 
memory  of  Dr.  Dale,  and  the  character  of 
his  life  and  ministry.  Now  Dale  was  a 
great  politician,  he  was  an  intimate  friend 
and  fellow-labourer  of  Gladstone  and 
Bright  and  Chamberlain.  He  burned  with 
the  passion  of  righteousness.  He  entered 
deeply  into  social,  educational,  and  po- 
litical questions,  and  he  flung  himself  with 
stern  enthusiasm  into  every  campaign  for 
the  rectification  of  crooked  conditions,  for 
the  widening  of  the  bounds  of  freedom,  and 
for  the  enrichment  of  the  general  life  of 
the  nation.  Yes,  Dale  was  a  great  poli- 
tician, but  he  was  a  greater  preacher,  and 
the  themes  of  his  pulpit  were  vaster  and 
more  fundamental  than  those  he  dealt  with 
on  the  platform.  Was  ever  a  pulpit  de- 
voted to  mightier  themes  than  when  Dale 
filled    it!      Turn    to    his    book    on    "The 

[8^] 


THE  PREACHER'S  THEMES 


Atonement  " :  every  chapter  went  through 
his  pulpit!  Take  his  incomparable  work 
on  Ephesians:  it  was  all  preached  in  his 
pulpit!  Or  look  at  his  maturest  work,  the 
great  book  on  "  Christian  Doctrine  ":  every 
word  of  it  was  given  to  his  people  through 
the  pulpit!  "  I  hear  that  you  are  preach- 
ing doctrinal  sermons  to  the  congregation 
at  Carrs  Lane,"  a  fellow-minister  said  to 
him  one  day:  "they  will  not  stand  it." 
Dale  replied,  "  They  will  have  to  stand  it," 
and  throughout  his  long  and  noble  ministry 
they  not  only  stood  it,  but  welcomed  it,  and 
rejoiced  in  it,  and  were  nourished  for  the 
splendid  service  which  that  church  has 
alwaj^s  rendered  to  the  cause  of  civil  and 
religious  liberty.  At  the  very  time  when 
he  was  foremost  as  a  politician  his  pulpit 
was  dealing  with  the  awful  yet  glorious 
mysteries  of  redeeming  grace.  Dale's  home 
was  not  among  the  prophets  but  among 
the  apostles  and  evangelists.  He  visited 
Isaiah,  but  he  lived  with  Paul.  Nay,  he 
dwelt  "  in  heavenly  places  in  Christ  Jesus," 
and  it  was  the  glories  of  that  lofty  relation- 

[83] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 


ship,  which  he  had  obtained  by  grace,  and 
at  which  he  never  ceased  to  wonder,  that 
he  sought  to  unveil  Sunday  by  Sunday  to 
his  waiting  people.  His  pulpit  was  reserved 
for  vital  and  central  themes:  he  never  al- 
lowed the  calls  of  wdder  citizenship  to  snare 
him  from  his  throne. 

There  is  another  peril  which  I  will  name. 
The  sense  of  scriptural  truth  is  very  deli- 
cate and  it  can  be  easily  impaired.  Every 
preacher  knows  how  sensitive  is  the  organ 
of  spiritual  perception,  and  how  vigilantly 
it  has  to  be  guarded  if  he  is  to  retain  his 
vision  and  apprehension  of  "  the  deeper 
things  "  of  God.  You  v/ill  find  in  your 
ministry  that  an  evil  temper  can  make  you 
blind.  You  will  find  that  jealousy  can 
scale  your  eyes  until  the  heavens  give  no 
flight.  You  will  find  that  paltry  temper 
raises  an  earth-born  cloud  between  you 
and  the  hills  of  God.  You  will  find  when 
you  enter  your  study  that  your  moral  and 
spiritual  condition  demands  your  first  at- 
tention. I  have  sat  down  to  the  prepara- 
tion of  my  sermon  and  the  heavens  have 

[84] 


THE  PREACHER'S  THEMES 


been  as  brass!  I  have  turned  to  the  gospel 
of  John  and  it  has  been  as  a  wilderness, 
without  verdure  or  dew!  Yes,  you  will 
find  that  when  your  spirit  is  impaired,  your 
Bible,  and  your  lexicons,  and  your  com- 
mentaries are  only  like  so  many  spectacles 
behind  which  there  are  no  eyes:  you  have 
no  sight! 

All  this  you  will  probably  grant  when 
our  attention  is  confined  to  the  influence 
of  deliberate  sin  upon  spiritual  vision.  But 
I  would  ask  you  to  consider  whether  the 
spiritual  organ  of  the  preacher  may  not  be 
bruised  if  he  is  enticed  to  give  the  burden 
of  his  attention  to  secondary  discussion  and 
controversies,  to  matters  which  have  cer- 
tainly not  first  rank  in  the  interests  of  the 
soul.  I  believe  it  is  possible  for  the  soci- 
ologist to  impair  the  evangelist  in  the 
preacher,  and  that  a  man  can  lose  his  power 
to  unveil  and  display  "  the  unsearchable 
riches  of  Christ."  Gentlemen,  this  fear  is 
not  the  creation  of  the  fancy.  I  have  heard 
men  make  the  confession  that  they  have 
acquired  a  passion  and  aptitude  for  certain 

[85] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

types  of  preaching,  and  they  have  lost  the 
power  to  expound  those  deepest  matters 
which  absorbingly  engaged  the  heart  and 
j  brain  of  the  Apostle  Paul.  When  the 
.  preacher  becomes  economist  there  are  men 
/  outside  who  can  surpass  him  in  his  office. 
His  influence  in  these  secondary  realms  is 
comparatively  small.  His  legitimate  and 
unshared  throne  is  elsewhere  and  among 
other  themes.  It  is  for  him  to  keep  a 
clean,  clear,  true  insight  into  the  things  that 
matter  most,  to  explore  the  wonderful  love 
of  God,  to  delve  and  mine  in  the  treasures 
of  redemption,  "  to  know  nothing  among 
men  save  Jesus  Christ  and  Him  crucified." 
But  a  second  reason  is  given  why  the 
themes  of  the  pulpit  should  be  more  widely 
varied  than  those  of  a  past  generation.  We 
are  told  that  there  is  a  tragic  lapse  of  inter- 
est in  the  Church.  The  Church  is  now 
surrounded  by  a  multiplicity  of  conflicting 
or  competing  interests.  Modern  life  has 
put  on  brighter  colours:  it  has  become 
more  garish,  more  arresting,  more  mes- 
meric.    Society  has  become  more  enticing, 

[86] 


THE  PREACHER'S  THEMES 


and  lures  of  pleasure  abound  on  every  side. 
And  all  this  is  making  the  Church  seem 
very  grey  and  sombre,  and  her  slow,  old- 
fashioned  waj^s  appear  like  a  "  one-horse 
shay  "  amid  the  bright,  swift  times  of  auto- 
mobile and  aeroplane!  And  therefore  the 
Church  must  "  hurry  up  "  and  make  her 
services  more  pleasant  and  savoury.  Her 
themes  must  be  "  up-to-date."  They  must 
be  "  live  "  subjects  for  "  live  "  men!  They 
must  be  even  a  little  sensational  if  they  are 
to  catch  the  interest  of  men  who  live  in 
the  thick  of  sensations  from  day  to  day. 

I  can  quite  understand  men  who  take 
this  position,  and  I  think  they  offer  certain 
reasonable  counsels  which  it  will  be  our 
wisdom  to  heed.  But  on  the  other  hand 
I  think  the  road  is  beset  with  perils  which 
we  must  heed  with  equal  vigilance.  The 
Apostle  Paul  recognized  changing  assort- 
ments of  circumstances,  and  he  resolved 
upon  a  certain  elasticity,  and  he  became 
*'  all  things  to  all  men "  that  he  might 
"  save  some."  But  in  all  the  elasticity  of 
his  relations  he  never  changed  his  themes 

[87] 


\l 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

He  moved  amid  the  garishness  of  Ephesus, 
and  Corinth,  and  Rome,  but  he  never  bor- 
rowed the  artificial  splendour  of  his  sur- 
roundings and  thereby  eclipsed  the  Cross. 
No  "  w^ay  of  the  world  "  seduced  him  from 
his  central  themes.  Wherever  he  v/ent, 
whether  to  a  little  prayer-meeting  by  the 
river-side  in  Philippi,  or  amid  the  aggres- 
sive, sensational  glare  of  Ephesus  or 
Corinth,  he  "  determined  to  know  nothing 
among  men  save  Jesus  Christ  and  Him 
crucified."  And  I  am  persuaded  that  amid 
all  the  changed  conditions  of  our  day — the 
social  upheavals,  the  race  for  wealth,  the 
quest  of  pleasure,  we  shall  gain  nothing 
by  hugging  the  subordinate,  or  by  paying 
any  homage  to  the  flippancy  and  frivolity 
of  the  time.  The  Church  is  in  perilous 
ways  when  she  begins  to  borrow  the  sen- 
sational notes  of  the  passing  hour.  One  of 
the  clearest  and  wisest  counsellors  of  our 
time,  a  man  who  knew  the  secrets  of  men 
because  he  dwelt  in  "  the  secret  jilace  of 
the  Most  High,"  gave  this  straight  counsel 
to  the  ministry  a  little  while  ago :  "  Against 

[88] 


THE  PREACHER'S  THEMES 


religious  sensationalism,  outre  sayings, 
startling  advertisements,  profane  words, 
irreverent  prayers,  the  younger  ministry 
must  make  an  unflinching  stand,  for  the 
sake  of  the  Church  and  the  world,  for  the  "^ 
sake  of  their  profession  and  themselves." 
I  do  not  think  these  words  describe  an 
imaginary  peril.  The  peril  is  already  at 
our  gates;  in  some  quarters  it  has  been  an 
actual  menace  to  our  worship,  and  here  and 
there  the  menace  has  become  a  "  destruction 
that  wasteth  at  noonday."  There  is  a  cer- 
tain reserved  and  reticent  dignity  which 
will  always  be  an  essential  element  in  our 
power  among  men.  We  never  reach  the 
innermost  room  in  any  man's  soul  by  the 
expediencies  of  the  showman  or  the  buf- 
foon. The  way  of  irreverence  will  never 
bring  us  to  the  holy  place.  Let  us  be  as 
familiar  as  you  please,  but  let  it  be  the 
familiarity  of  simplicity,  the  simplicity 
which  clothes  itself  in  all  things  natural, 
chaste,  and  refined.  And  I  think  if  we 
were  to  exercise  ourselves  upon  things  su- 
premely beautiful  we  should  find  that  we 

[89] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

had  hit  upon  the  supremely  sensational, 
and  that  the  out-of-the-way  themes,  the 
glaring  titles,  the  loud  advertisements,  are 
(undesirable  ministers  in  the  quest  and 
cure  of  souls. 

What  are  the  needs  of  the  people  who 
face  us  in  the  pews?  In  their  innermost 
souls  what  do  they  crave?  Are  they 
hungering  for  the  rediscussion  of  news- 
paper topics,  with  only  the  added  flavour 
of  the  sanction  of  the  sanctuary?  Shall 
the  preacher  be  just  a  visible  editor,  pre- 
senting his  message  amid  the  solemn  in- 
spirations of  prayer  and  praise?  What 
is  the  apostolic  guidance  in  the  matter? 
When  I  turn  to  apostolic  witness  and 
preaching  I  am  growingly  amazed  at  the 
fulness  and  glory  of  the  message.  There 
is  a  range  about  it,  ana  a  vastness,  and  a 
radiance,  and  a  colour  which  have  been 
the  growing  astonishment  of  my  latter 
years.  When  I  turn  to  it  I  feel  as  though 
I  am  in  Alpine  country;  majestic  heights 
with  tracts  of  virgin  snow;  suggestions  of 
untraversed   depths   with   most    significant 

[90] 


THE  PREACHER'S  THEMES 


silence;  mighty  rivers  full  and  brimming 
all  the  year  round;  fields  of  exquisite 
flowers  nestling  beneath  the  protecting 
care  of  precipitous  grandeur;  fruit-trees 
on  the  lower  slopes,  each  bearing  its  fruit 
in  its  season;  the  song  of  birds;  the  moving 
air;  the  awful  tempest.  Turn  to  one  of 
PauFs  epistles,  and  you  will  experience 
this  sense  of  air,  and  space,  and  height, 
and  grandeur.  Turn  to  Ephesians,  or 
Colossians,  or  Romans,  and  you  feel  at 
once  you  are  not  in  some  little  hill-country, 
and  still  less  on  some  unimpressive  and 
monotonous  plain,  you  are  in  mountainous 
country,  awful,  arresting,  and  yet  also 
fascinating,  companionable,  intimate.  In 
Ephesians  you  lift  your  wondering  eyes 
upon  the  ineffable  Glory,  but  you  also 
wander  by  rivers  of  grace,  and  you  walk 
in  paths  of  light,  and  you  gather  "  the 
fruits  of  the  Spirit "  from  the  tree  that^ 
grows  by  the  w^ay.  I  say  it  is  this  vastness, 
this  manifold  glory  of  apostolic  preaching 
which  more  and  more  allures  me,  and  more 
and  more  overwhelms  me  as  the  years  of 

[91] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

my  ministry  go  by.  There  is  something 
here  to  awaken  the  wonder  of  men,  to 
lead  them  into  holy  awe,  to  brace  their 
spirits,  to  expand  their  minds,  and  to 
immeasurably  enlarge  their  thought  and 
life. 

And  what  is  true  of  apostolic  preaching 
has  been  true  of  all  great  preaching  down 
to  this  very  hour.  Take  Thomas  Boston. 
We  are  told  that  his  language  was  "  tasked 
and  strained  to  the  utmost,  to  admeasure 
and  to  understand,"  when  he  spoke  of 
"  those  redemptive  blessings  which  meet  all 
men's  necessities  .  .  .  the  full  and  irrevo- 
cable forgiveness  of  sins;  reinstatement  in 
the  divine  favour  and  friendship;  the  gift 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  his  enlightening, 
purifying,  and  peace-giving  influences, 
turning  men  into  living  temples  of  the 
living  God;  victory  in  death  and  over 
death;  the  reception  of  the  soul  at  death 
into  the  Father's  house,  and  the  beatific 
vision  of  God."  These  were  the  themes 
of  transcendent  interest  which  enriched 
and    glorified    the    preaching    of    Thomas 

[92] 


THE  PREACHER'S  THEMES 


Boston,  and  which  made  it  so  mighty  a 
power  for  the  highest  good  that  there  was 
scarcely  a  cottage  home  in  all  Ettrick  in 
which  some  of  his  converts  could  not  be 
found. 

Or  take  Spurgeon.  You  may  not  like 
his  theology.  You  may  resent  some  of 
the  phraseology  in  which  his  theology  is 
enshrined.  But  I  tell  you  that,  with 
Spurgeon' s  preaching  as  your  guide,  your 
movements  are  not  limited  to  some  formal 
exercise  on  a  barren  asphalt  area,  or  con- 
fined to  the  limits  of  some  small  backj^ard. 
Hear  him  on  the  love  of  God,  on  the 
grace  of  Christ  Jesus,  on  the  communion 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Hear  him  on  such 
texts  as  "  Accepted  in  the  Beloved," 
"  The  Glory  of  His  Grace,"  "  The  For- 
giveness of  Sins,"  "  The  Holy  Spirit  of 
Promise,"  "  The  Exceeding  Greatness  of 
His  Power  to  Us  ward  Who  Believe  " — hear 
him  on  themes  like  these,  and  you  have  a 
sense  of  vastness  kindred  to  that  which 
awes  you  when  you  listen  to  the  Apostle 
Paul.     Every   apparently   simple   division 

[93] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

in  the  sermon  is  like  the  turning  of  the 
telescope  to  some  new  galaxy  of  Imninous 
wonders    in    the    unfathomable    sky. 

Or  take  Newman.  What  was  it  that 
held  the  cultured  crowds  in  St.  Mary's 
enthralled  in  almost  painful  silence?  I 
know  there  was  the  supreme  genius  of 
the  preacher.  There  was  also  that  mys- 
terious fascination  which  always  attaches 
to  the  mystic  and  the  ascetic,  to  those  who 
are  most  evidently  detached  from  the 
jostling  and  heated  interests  of  the  world. 
But  above  and  beyond  these  there  was  the 
vastness  and  the  inwardness  of  the  themes 
with  which  he  dealt.  His  hearers  were 
constrained  from  the  study  to  the  sanc- 
tuary, from  the  market-place  to  the  holy 
place,  even  to  "  the  heavenly  places  in 
Christ  Jesus."  The  very  titles  of  his 
sermons  tell  us  where  he  dwelt:  "  Saving 
Knowledge,"  "  The  Quickening  Spirit," 
"  The  Humiliation  of  the  Eternal  Son," 
"  Holiness  Necessary  for  Future  Blessed- 
ness," "  Christ  Manifested  in  Remem- 
brance," "  The  Glory  of  God."     The  very 

[94] 


THE  PREACHEirS  THEMES 


recital  of  the  themes  enlarges  the  mind, 
and  induces  that  sacred  fear  which  is  "  the 
beginning  of  wisdom."  The  preacher  was 
always  moving  in  a  vast  world,  the  solemn 
greatness  of  life  was  continually  upon 
him,  and  there  was  ever  the  call  of  the 
Infinite  even  in  the  practical  counsel  con- 
cerning the  duty  of  the  immediate  day. 

I  say  this  has  been  the  mood  and  the 
manner  of  all  great  and  effective  preach- 
ing. It  was  even  so  with  the  mighty 
preaching  of  Thomas  Binney.  "  He 
seemed,"  says  one  who  knew  him  well, 
"  to  look  at  the  horizon  rather  than  at  an 
enclosed  field,  or  a  local  landscape.  He 
had  a  marvellous  way  of  connecting  every 
subject  with  eternity  past  and  with  eter- 
nity to  come."  Yes,  and  that  was  Pauline 
and  apostolic.  It  was  as  though  you  were 
looking  at  a  bit  of  carved  wood  in  a 
Swiss  village  window,  and  you  lifted  your 
eyes  and  saw  the  forest  where  the  wood 
was  nourished,  and,  higher  still,  the 
everlasting  snows!  Yes,  that  was 
Binney's    way,    Dale's    way,    the    way    of 

[95] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

Bushnell,  and  Newman,  and  Spurgeon — 
they  were  always  willing  to  stop  at  the 
village  window,  bat  they  always  linked 
the  streets  with  the  heights,  and  sent  your 
souls  a-roaming  over  the  eternal  hills  of 
God.  And  this  it  is  which  always  im- 
presses me,  and  impresses  me  more  and 
more — the  solemn  spaciousness  of  their 
themes,  the  glory  of  their  unveilings,  their 
wrestlings  with  language  to  make  the 
glory  known,  the  voice  of  the  Eternal  in 
their  practical  appeals;  and  this  it  is  which 
so  profoundly  moved  their  hearers  to 
"  wonder,  love,  and  praise." 

Well  now,  is  our  preaching  to-day  char- 
acterized by  this  apostolic  vastness  of 
theme,  this  unfolding  of  arresting  spiritual 
wealth  and  glory?  I  ask  these  questions 
not  that  we  may  register  a  hasty  and  care- 
less verdict,  but  to  suggest  a  serious  and 
personal  inquiry.  Dr.  Gore,  the  Bishop 
of  Oxford,  has  been  recently  telling  us 
what  he  thinks  is  the  perilous  tendency  of 
the  ministers  and  teachers  of  the  Protes- 
tant  religion.      He   declares   that   we    are 

[96] 


THE  PREACHER'S  THEMES 


seeking  refuge  from  the  difficulties  of 
thought  in  the  opportunities  of  action. 
That  is  a  very  serious  suggestion.  It  would 
mean  that  we  are  intensely  busy  in  the 
little  village  shop,  and  have  no  vision  of 
the  pine  forests,  or  of  the  august  splen- 
dours of  the  everlasting  hills.  And  it 
would  mean  something  more  than  this. 
We  are  not  going  to  enrich  our  action  by 
the  impoverishment  of  our  thought.  A 
skimmed  theology  will  not  produce  a  more 
intimate  philanthropy.  We  are  not  going 
to  become  more  ardent  lovers  of  men  by 
the  cooling  of  our  love  for  God.  You 
cannot  drop  the  big  themes  and  create 
great    saints. 

But  altogether  apart  from  what  Dr. 
Gore  thinks  of  our  preaching,  what  do 
we  think  of  it  ourselves?  In  the  light  of 
the  example  of  the  Apostle  Paul,  of  his 
teaching  and  preaching,  and  by  the  ex- 
ample of  the  other  great  preachers  I 
have  named,  how  does  it  fare  with  our 
familiar  themes?  Are  they  always  in  the 
village  shop,  or  is  there  always  a  sugges- 

[97] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

tion  of  the  mountains  about  them?  Are 
they  thin,  and  small,  and  of  the  dwarfed 
variety?  Can  our  language  very  easily 
say  all  that  we  have  got  to  say,  or  does  it 
fail  to  carry  the  glory  we  would  fain 
express?  Is  it  not  true  that  our  language 
is  often  too  big  for  our  thought,  and  our 
thought  is  like  a  spoonful  of  sad  wine 
rattling  about  in  a  very  ornate  and  dis- 
tinguished bottle?  Men  may  admire  the 
bottle,  but  they  find  no  inspiration  in  the 
wine.  Yes,  men  admire,  but  they  do  not 
revere;  they  appreciate,  but  they  do  not 
repent;  they  are  interested,  but  they  are 
not  exalted.  They  say,  "  What  a  fine 
sermon!"  not,  "What  a  great  God!" 
They  say,  "What  a  ready  speaker!" 
and  not,  "  Oh,  the  depth  of  the  riches 
both  of  the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of 
God!" 

It  is  this  note  of  vastitude,  this  ever- 
present  sense  and  suggestion  of  the  In- 
finite, which  I  think  we  need  to  recover 
in  our  modern  preaching.  Even  when  we 
are  dealing  with  what  we  sometimes  un- 

[98] 


THE  PREACHER'S  THExMES 


fortunately  distinguish  as  "  practical " 
duties  we  need  to  emphasize  their  rootage 
in  the  eternal.  It  is  at  the  gravest  peril 
that  we  dissociate  theology  and  ethics,  and 
separate  the  thought  of  duty  to  men  from 
the  thought  of  its  relation  to  God.  When 
the  Apostle  Paul,  in  the  twelfth  chapter  of 
Romans,  begins  to  be  hortatory,  precep- 
tive, practical,  it  is  because  he  has  already 
prepared  the  rich  bed  in  which  these  strong 
and  winsome  graces  may  be  grown.  Every 
precept  in  the  twelfth  chapter  sends  its 
roots  right  down  through  all  the  previous 
chapters,  through  the  rich,  fat  soil  of  sanc- 
tification  and  justification,  and  the  mys- 
terious energies  of  redeeming  grace.  We 
employ  a  universe  to  rear  a  lily-of-the- 
valley.  We  need  the  power  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  to  rear  a  fruit  of  the  Spirit.  We 
require  evangelical  grace  if  we  would 
create  evangelical  patience.  We  require 
"  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  "  if  we  would 
furnish  even  a  truly  courteous  life.  Ruskin 
says  that  if  you  were  to  cut  a  square  inch 
out   of  any  of  Turner's   skies  you  would 

[99] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

find  the  infinite  in  it.    And  it  ought  to  be 

that  if  men  were  to  take  only  a  square 

j  inch   out   of   any   of   our   preaching,   they 

I  would  find  a  suggestion  which  would  lead 

//  them  to  "  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the 

Lamb." 

All  this  means  that  we  must  preach  upon 
the  great  texts  of  the  Scriptures,  the  fat 
texts,  the  tremendous  passages  whose  vast- 
nesses   almost   terrify  us   as   we   approach 
them.     We  may  feel  that  we  are  but  pig- 
mies in  the  stupendous  task,  but  in  these 
matters  it  is  often  better  to  lose  ourselves 
in  the  immeasurable  than  to  always  con- 
fine   our    little    boat    to    the    measurable 
creeks    along    the    shore.      Yes,    we    must 
.grapple   with    the   big   things,    the    things 
j  about  which  our  people  will  hear  nowhere 
,  j  else ;  the  deep,  the  abiding,  the  things  that 
'  permanently    matter.      We    are    not    ap- 
pointed merely  to  give  good  advice,  but  to 
proclaim  good  news.     Therefore  must  the 
apostolic  themes  be  our  themes:  The  holi- 
ness of  God;  the  love  of  God;  the  grace 
of  the  Lord  Jesus;  the  solemn  wonders  of 

[100] 


THE  PREACHER'S  THEMES 


the  cross;  the  ministry  of  the  Divine  for- 
giveness; the  fellowship  of  His  sufferings; 
the  power  of  the  Resurrection;  the  blessed- 
ness  of   divine   communion;   the   heavenly 
places   in    Christ   Jesus;   the   mystical   in- 
dwelling of  the  Holy  Ghost;  the  abolition 
of  the  deadliness  of  death;  the  ageless  life; 
our  Father's  house;  the  liberty  of  the  glory 
of    the    children    of    God.      Themes    like 
these  are  to  be  our  power  and  distinction.  ^ 
"  O  thou  that  tellest  good  tidings  to  Zion,  ' 
get  thee  up  into  the  high  mountain.     O  ^ 
thou  that  tellest  good  tidings  to  Jerusalem,  * 
lift  up  thy  voice  with  strength:  lift  it  up:  ^ 
be  not  afraid:  say  unto  the  cities  of  Judah,   - 
Behold  your  God!" 

If  such  is  to  be  the  weighty  matter  of 
our  preaching,  we  surely  ought  to  be  most 
seriously  careful  how  we  proclaim  it.  The 
matter  may  be  bruised  and  spoiled  by  the 
manner.  The  work  of  grace  may  be 
marred  by  our  own  ungraciousness.  We 
may  fail  to  grip  and  hold  because  of  our 
inconsiderate  clumsiness.  There  are  certain 
things  which  it  is  necessary  to  avoid  if  we 

[101] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 


would  give  even  great  themes  directness 
and  wing.  First  of  all,  we  must  avoid  a 
cold  officialism.  There  is  nothing  more 
uncongenial  to  me,  as  I  move  about  amid 
the  venerable  stones  and  the  subduing 
presences  of  Westminster  Abbey,  than  to 
hear  the  cold,  heartless,  wonderless  recitals 
of  the  official  guides.  Yes,  there  is  one 
thing  more  uncongenial  still,  to  hear  the 
great  evangel  of  redeeming  love  recited 
with  the  metallic  apathy  of  a  gramophone, 
with  the  cold  remoteness  of  an  unapprecia- 
tive  machine.  And  that  is  our  peril.  The 
world  is  tired  of  the  mere  official  and  is 
hungry  for  the  living  man.  It  wants  more 
than  a  talker,  it  seeks  the  prophet.  It 
wants  more  than  a  sign-post,  it  seeks  a 
Greatheart  who  knows  the  ways  of  Zion, 
who  has  found  them  in  the  travail  of  his 
own  soul,  and  who  exults  in  their  foun- 
tains and  flowers,  and  in  all  their  exquisite 
delights.  The  mere  official  spectralizes 
the  grandest  themes,  he  offers  men  a 
phantom  deliverance  and  a  phantom 
feast. 

[102] 


THE  PREACHER'S  THEMES 


"  I've  been  to  church,"  saj^s  Robert 
"Louis  Stevenson,  in  one  of  his  letters, 
"  I've  been  to  church,  and  I  am  not  de- 
pressed! "  Walk  down  the  suggestive  lane 
of  that  phrase,  and  ponder  its  significance. 
"  I  once  heard  a  preacher,"  says  Emerson 
in  a  familiar  passage,  "  who  sorely  tempted 
me  to  say  I  would  go  to  church  no  more. 
A  snowstorm  was  falling  around  us.  The 
snowstorm  w^as  real;  the  preacher  merely 
spectral,  and  the  eye  felt  the  sad  contrast 
in  looking  at  him,  and  then  out  of  the  win- 
dow behind  him,  into  the  beautiful  meteor 
of  the  snow.  He  had  lived  in  vain.  He 
had  no  one  word  intimating  that  he  had 
laughed  or  wept,  was  married  or  in  love, 
had  been  commended,  or  cheated,  or 
chagrined.  If  he  had  ever  lived  and  acted, 
we  were  none  the  w^iser  for  it.  The  capital 
secret  of  his  profession,  namely,  to  convert 
life  into  truth,  he  had  not  learned."  Yes, 
he  was  a  mere  official,  wrenched  from  the 
innermost  vitalities  of  his  office.  If  he  had 
ever  had  "  the  vision  splendid,"  it  had 
faded  from  his  heaven,  and  no  longer  in- 

[  103  ] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

spired  his  soul  with  light  and  flame.  His 
words  were  only  words,  they  were  not 
spirit  and  life;  he  dwelt  in  the  outermost 
courts  of  the  temple,  near  to  all  the  other 
traffickers  in  holy  things — he  was  not  a 
servant  of  the  holy  place,  not  a  living  priest 
of  the  living  Gk)d.  And  his  peril  is  our 
peril,  subtle  and  insistent,  the  peril  of 
remoteness  from  central  issues,  the  peril 
of  making  substances  appear  shadows,  and 
of  making  the  holy  splendours  of  grace 
seem  like  immaterial  dreams.  And,  there- 
fore, may  we  not  fitly  add  to  our  private 
devotional  liturgy  an  extra  intercession, 
and  may  it  not  be  this:  "From  all  cold 
officialism  of  mind  and  heart;  from  the 
deadliness  of  custom  and  routine;  from 
worldliness  in  which  there  is  no  spirit,  and 
from  ministry  in  which  there  is  no  life; 
from  all  formality,  unreality,  and  pretence, 
good  Lord,  deliver  us!"  ? 

And  there  is  a  second  temptation  which, 
if  we  yield  to  it,  will  impair  the  efficiency 
of  even  mighty  themes,  the  peril  of  dicta- 
torialism.     I  am  not  suggesting  that  we 

[104] 


THE  PREACflER'S  THEMES 


are  to  affect  a  limp  in  our  preaching,  and 
that  we  are  to  proclaim  the  word  with 
trembling  hesitancy  and  indecision.  But 
there  is  a  world  of  difference  between  the 
authoritative  and  the  dictatorial.  In  these 
realms  the  authoritative  messenger  is 
clothed  with  humility,  the  dictatorial  mes- 
senger is  clothed  with  subtle  pride.  One 
walks  on  stilts,  the  other  "  walks  in  the 
fear  of  the  Lord."  The  dictatorial  is  self- 
raised,  the  authoritative  comes  "  from 
above."  And,  therefore,  the  authoritative 
carries  an  atmosphere  as  well  as  a  message, 
it  has  grace  as  well  as  truth.  The  dicta- 
torial may  have  the  form  of  truth,  but 
it  does  not  carry  the  fragrance  of  the 
King's  garden;  it  lacks  the  grace  of  the 
Lord  Jesus.  Now,  I  am  perfectly  sure 
that  here  we  find  one  reason  why  our 
ministry  is  often  so  ineffective — we  confuse 
the  dictatorial  with  the  authoritative,  plain- 
ness with  impressiveness,  "  straight  speak- 
ing "  with  "  speaking  with  tongues "  as 
the  Spirit  gives  us  utterance.  We  "  call 
a    spade    a    spade,"    and    think    we    have 

[105] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

spoken  the  truth.  And  so  we  dictate,  but 
we  don't  persuade;  we  point  the  way,  but 
few  pilgrims  take  the  road. 

Look  at  the  oppressive  presence  of  sin. 
We  may  deal  with  it  authoritatively  or 
dictatorially.  The  weight  of  our  speech 
may  be  derived  from  the  tiny  elevation  of 
our  office,  or  from  the  sublime  heights  of 
the  *'  heavenly  places  in  Christ  Jesus."  If 
we  speak  dictatorially  we  shall  be  only 
combatants:  if  we  speak  authoritatively 
we  shall  be  saviours.  If  we  are  only  dic- 
tatorial we  shall  speak  with  severity;  if  we 
are  authoritative  we  shall  speak  with  medi- 
cated severity,  and  men  and  women  will 
begin  to  expose  their  poisoned  wounds  to 
our  healing  ministry.  If  we  are  only 
dictatorial  our  speech  will  have  the  aloof- 
ness of  a  prescription;  if  we  are  authori- 
tative we  shall  have  the  immediacy  of  a 
surgeon  engaged  in  the  work  of  practical 
salvation. 

Or  take  the  dark  and  ubiquitous  pres- 
ence of  sorrow.  I  have  been  greatly  im- 
pressed   in    recent    years    by    one    refrain 

[106] 


THE  PREACHER'S  THEMES 


which  I  have  found  running  through  many 
biographies.  Dr.  Parker  repeated  again 
and  again,  "Preach  to  broken  hearts!" 
And  here  is  the  testimony  of  Ian  Maclaren : 
"  The  chief  end  of  preaching  is  comfort. 
.  .  .  Never  can  I  forget  what  a  distin- 
guished scholar,  who  used  to  sit  in  my 
church,  once  said  to  me :  '  Your  best  work 
in  the  pulpit  has  been  to  put  heart  into 
men  for  the  coming  week! '  "  And  may  I 
bring  you  an  almost  bleeding  passage .} 
from  Dr.  Dale:  "  People  want  to  be  com- 
forted. .  .  .  They  need  consolation — really 
need  it,  and  do  not  merely  long  for  it.  I 
came  to  that  conclusion  some  years  ago, 
but  have  never  been  able  to  amend  my 
ways  as  I  wish.  I  try,  and  sometimes  have 
a  partial  success:  but  the  success  is  only 
partial.  Four  or  five  months  ago  I 
preached  a  sermon  on  *  Rest  in  the  Lord,' 
and  began  to  think  I  had  found  the 
track:  but  if  I  did  I  lost  it  again.  Last 
Sunday  week  I  preached  on  *  As  far  as 
the  east  is  from  the  west,  so  far  hath  He 
removed     our     transgressions     from     us.' 

[107] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LH^E  AND  WORK 

That,  I  think,  was  still  nearer  to  the  right 
thing;  but  I  cannot  keep  it  up." 

Brethren,  if  these  men  felt  this  need 
of  the  people,  and  also  felt  the  difficulty 
of  bringing  their  ministry  to  bear  upon  it, 
how  is  it  with  you  and  me?  One  thing 
is  perfectly  clear,  the  merely  dictatorial 
will  never  heal  the  broken  in  heart,  or 
bind  up  their  bleeding  wounds.  Our  power 
will  not  be  found  in  our  official  rank,  or  in 
the  respect  paid  to  our  vocation.  Our 
power  will  be  found  in  our  authority,  mys- 
terious yet  most  real,  an  authority  which 
is  not  the  peri^uisite  of  human  dignity  or 
reward.  We  shall  have  to  go  to  "  the 
throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb,"  we 
shall  have  to  tread  the  way  which  runs  by 
the  mystical  river;  we  shall  have  to  pluck 
the  leaves  of  the  tree  which  are  for  "  the 
healing  of  the  nations  " ;  and  with  the  ex- 
quisite tenderness  of  grace  lay  these  leaves 
upon  the  wounds  and  the  sorrows  of  our 
afflicted  race. 

And  for  all  this  tremendous  but  privi- 
leged task,   which   I  have  sought  to  out- 

[108] 


THE  PREACHER'S  THEMES 


line  in  this  lecture,  the  presentation  of 
great  themes  in  a  great  way^  ministering 
to  the  sin,  and  sorrow,  and  weakness  of 
the  world,  we  have  the  abundant  resources 
of  a  bountiful  God.  We  have  "  the  grace 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  love  of 
God,  and  the  communion  of  the  Holy 
Ghost " ;  and  with  these  as  our  allies  God's 
statutes  will  become  our  songs. 


[109] 


THE   PREACHER   IN    HIS   STUDY 

*' A  wise  master-builder*' 


LECTURE      .      FOUR 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  STUDY 

''A  wise  master-builder '' 

I  AM  to-day  to  ask  your  consideration 
to  the  subject  of  "  The  Preacher  in  His 
Study."  What  manner  of  man  must  the 
preacher  be  when  he  enters  his  workshop, 
and  what  kind  of  work  shall  he  do?  A 
little  while  ago  I  was  reading  the  life  of  a 
very  distinguished  English  judge,  Lord 
Bo  wen,  and  in  an  illuminating  statement 
of  the  powers  and  qualities  required  for 
success  at  the  bar  he  used  these  words: 
"  Cases  are  won  in  chambers."  That  is  to 
say,  so  far  as  the  barrister  is  concerned, 
his  critical  arena  is  not  the  public  court 
but  his  own  private  room.  He  will  not 
win  triumph  by  extemporary  wit,  but  by 
hard  work.  Cases  are  not  won  by  jaunty 
"  sorties  "  of  flashing  appeal,  but  by  well- 
marshalled  facts  and  disciplined  arguments 
marching  solidly  together  in  invincible 
strength.     "  Cases  are  won  in  chambers." 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

And  if  a  barrister  is  to  practically  conquer 
his  jury  before  he  meets  them,  by  the  vic- 
torious strength  and  sway  of  his  prepara- 
tions, shall  it  be  otherwise  with  a  preacher, 
before  he  seeks  the  verdict  of  his  congrega- 
tion? With  us,  too,  "  cases  are  won  in 
chambers."  Men  are  not  deeply  influenced 
by  extemporized  thought.  They  are  not 
carried  along  by  a  current  of  fluency 
which  is  ignorant  where  it  is  going.  Mere 
talkativeness  will  not  put  people  into 
bonds.  Happy-go-lucky  sermons  will  lay 
no  necessity  upon  the  reason  nor  put  any 
strong  constraint  upon  the  heart.  Preach- 
ing that  costs  nothing  accomplishes  noth- 
ing. If  the  study  is  a  lounge  the  pulpit 
will  be  an  impertinence. 

It  is,  therefore,  imperative  that  the 
preacher  go  into  his  study  to  do  hard  work. 
We  must  make  the  business-man  in  our 
congregation  feel  that  we  are  his  peer  in 
labour.  There  is  no  man  so  speedily  dis- 
covered as  an  idle  minister,  and  there  is  no 
man  who  is  visited  by  swifter  contempt. 
We  may  hide  some  things,  but  our  idle- 

[m] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  STUDY 

ness  is  as  obtrusive  as  though  the  name 
of  skiggard  were  branded  on  our  fore- 
heads. As  indeed  it  is !  And  here  we  must 
most  vigilantly  guard  against  self-decep- 
tion. We  may  come  to  assume  that  we 
are  really  working  when  we  are  only  loaf- 
ing through  our  days.  The  self-deception 
may  arise  from  many  causes.  I  have 
noticed  that  some  people  assume  they  are 
very  generous,  but  it  is  simply  because  they 
have  no  system  in  their  giving  and  no 
record  of  their  gifts.  You  will  find,  when 
you  get  into  your  churches,  that  some  peo- 
ple confuse  the  number  of  appeals  they 
have  heard  with  the  number  of  times  they 
have  given;  and  the  mere  remembrance 
of  the  appeals  makes  them  sweat  under  the 
burdened  sense  of  their  bounty.  Their 
self-deception  is  not  intentional:  it  Js  only 
consequential:  they  have  very  poor  mem- 
ories, and  they  use  no  s^^stem  to  ^id  them. 
And  so  it  is  in  respect  to  labour.  If  we 
have  no  sj^stem  we  shall  come  to  think  we 
were  working  when  we  were  only  thinking 
about  it,  and  that  we  were  busy  when  we 

[115] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

were  only  engaged.  And,  therefore,  with 
all  my  heart  I  give  this  counsel, — be  as 
systematic  as  a  business-man.  Enter  your 
)  study  at  an  appointed  hour,  and  let  that 
hour  be  as  early  as  the  earliest  of  your 
business-men  goes  to  his  warehouse  or  his 
office.  I  remember  in  my  earlier  days  how 
I  used  to  hear  the  factory  operatives  pass- 
ing my  house  on  the  way  to  the  mills, 
where  work  began  at  six  o'clock.  I  can 
recall  the  sound  of  their  iron-clogs  ring- 
ing through  the  street.  The  sound  of  the 
clogs  fetched  me  out  of  bed  and  took 
me  to  my  work.  I  no  longer  hear  the 
Yorkshire  clogs,  but  I  can  see  and  hear 
my  business-men  as  they  start  off  early  to 
earn  their  daily  bread.  And  shall  their 
minister  be  behind  them  in  his  quest  of  the 
Bread  of  Life?  Shall  he  slouch  and  loiter 
into  the  day,  shamed  by  those  he  assumes 
to  lead,  and  shall  his  indolence  be  obtrusive 
in  the  services  of  the  sanctuary  when  "  the 
hungry  sheep  look  up  and  are  not  fed"? 
Let  the  minister,  I  say,  be  as  business-like 
as    the    business-man.      Let    him    employ 

[116] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  STUDY 


system  and  method,  and  let  him  he  as 
scrupulously  punctual  in  his  private  habits 
in  the  service  of  his  Lord,  as  he  would 
have  to  be  in  a  government-office  in  the 
service  of  his  country.  And  to  regularity 
let  him  add  proportion.  Let  him  estimate 
the  comparative  values  of  things.  Let  first 
things  be  put  first,  and  let  him  give  the 
freshness  of  his  strength  to  matters  of  vital 
and  primary  concern.  Gentlemen,  all  this 
will  pay,  and  the  payment  will  be  made  in 
sterling  good.  You  will  win  the  respect  of 
your  people,  even  of  the  most  strenuous  of 
them,  and  when  they  see  that  you  "  mean 
business  "  some  of  your  obstacles  will  be 
already  removed,  and  you  will  find  an 
open  way  to  the  very  citadels  of  their  souls. 
Now  if  this  large,  honest  road  is  to  be 
followed  we  shall  go  into  our  workshops 
for  systematic  study.  We  shall  not  be 
desultory  or  trifling.  We  shall  not  waste 
time  in  looking  for  work,  but  we  shall  be- 
gin to  work  at  once.  We  shall  not  spend 
the  early  hours  of  the  day  in  raking  for 
texts,    but    in    comprehensive    visions    of 

[117] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

truth.  We  must  be  explorers  of  a  vast 
continent  of  truth,  and  the  individual  texts 
will  find  us  out  as  we  go  along.  Our  very 
insight  into  particular  truths  depends  upon 
our  vision  of  broader  truth.  Our  per-t 
ceptiveness  is  determined  by  our  compre-  \ 
hensiveness.  Men  whose  eyes  range  over 
the  vast  prairies  have  intense  discernment 
of  things  that  are  near  at  hand.  The 
watchmaker,  whose  eyes  are  imprisoned  to 
the  immediate,  loses  his  strength  of  vision, 
and  soon  requires  artificial  aid  to  see  even 
the  immediate  itself.  The  big  outlook 
makes  you  lynx-eyed :  telescopic  range  gives 
you  also  microscopic  discernment.  We 
must  study  truth  if  we  would  understand 
texts,  as  we  should  study  literature  to 
understand  the  significance  of  individual 
words. 

How  could  you  seize  the  significance  of 
such  a  phrase  as  "  rejoicing  in  hope,"  or 
"  bless  them  which  persecute  you,"  found 
in  the  twelfth  chapter  of  Romans,  unless 
you  see  it  drenched  in  the  morning  splen- 
dour of  grace,  and  set  in  the  radiant  vistas 

[118] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  STUDY 


of  the  sanctified  life?  We  cannot  preserve 
the  real  life  of  these  things  if  we  cut  them 
out,  and  detach  them,  and  regard  them  as 
having  no  vital  and  infinite  relations.  The 
fact  of  the  matter  is,  these  practical  coun- 
sels of  the  Apostle  Paul  are  not  added 
to  his  letters  as  though  they  were  an  un- 
related appendix,  casually  bound  up  with 
matter  with  which  they  have  no  critical 
relation.  Every  counsel  has  blood-relation- 
ship to  all  that  has  preceded  it.  We 
require  the  entire  letter  for  the  understand- 
ing of  only  one  of  its  parts.  A  duty  in 
chapter  twelve  shines  with  a  light  reflected 
from  chapter  five,  and  it  pulses  with  a 
motive  and  constraint  which  is  born  in 
chapter  eight.  The  unveiled  truth  inter- 
prets and  empowers  the  practical  duty. 

This  is  what  I  mean  when  I  say  that  w^e 
are  to  be  explorers  of  broad  fields  of  reve- 
lation, and  that  we  are  to  find  our  texts  in 
these  wide  domains.  I  would,  therefore, 
urge  upon  all  young  preachers,  amid  all 
their  other  reading,  to  be  always  engaged 
in  the  comprehensive  study  of  some  one 

[119] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

book  in  the  Bible.  Let  that  book  be 
studied  with  all  the  strenuous  mental  habits 
of  a  man's  student  days.  Let  him  put  into 
it  the  deliberate  diligence,  the  painstaking 
care,  the  steady  persistence  with  which  he 
prepared  for  exacting  examinations,  and 
let  him  assign  a  part  of  every  day  to  at- 
taining perfect  mastery  over  it.  You  will 
find  this  habit  to  be  of  immeasurable  value 
in  the  enrichment  of  your  ministry.  In  the 
first  place,  it  will  give  you  breadth  of 
vision,  and,  therefore,  it  will  give  you  per- 
spective and  proportion.  You  will  see 
every  text  as  coloured  and  determined  by 
its  context,  and  indeed  as  related  to  vast 
provinces  of  truth  which  might  otherwise 
seem  remote  and  irrelevant.  And  you 
will  be  continually  fertilizing  your  minds 
by  discoveries  and  surprises  which  will 
keep  you  from  boredom,  and  which  will 
keep  you  from  that  wearisome  gin  of 
commonplaces  in  whose  accustomed  grooves 
even  the  most  stalwart  grows  faint.  Wide 
journeyings  and  explorations  of  this  kind 
will    leave    you    no    trouble    about    texts. 

[120] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  STUDY 


Texts  will  clamour  for  recognition,  and 
your  only  trouble  will  be  to  find  time  to 
give  them  notice.  The  year  will  seem 
altogether  too  short  to  deal  with  the  wait- 
ing procession  and  to  exhibit  their  wealth. 
Yes,  you  will  be  embarrassed  with  your 
riches  instead  of  with  your  poverty.  I 
know  one  minister  who,  as  he  walked  home 
from  his  church  on  Sunday  nights,  would 
almost  invariably  say  to  a  deacon,  who 
accompanied  him,  and  say  it  with  shaking 
head  and  melancholy  tones,  "  Two  more 
wanted!  Two  more!"  He  would  send 
the  eyes  of  his  imagination  roving  over 
the  thin  little  patch  which  he  had  gleaned 
so  constantly,  and  he  was  filled  with  dole- 
ful wonder  as  to  where  he  should  gather 
a  few  more  ears  of  corn  for  next  week's 
bread!  "  Two  more  wanted!  Two  more!  " 
He  had  no  barns,  or,  if  he  had,  they  were 
empty!  We  must  cultivate  big  farms,  and 
we  shall  have  well-stocked  barns,  and  we 
shall  not  be  moody  gleaners  searching  for 
thin  ears  over  a  small  and  ill-cultivated 
field. 


[121] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

In  your  study  you  will,  of  course,  take 
advantage  of  the  best  that  scholarship  can 
offer  you  in  the  interpretation  of  the  Word. 
Before  preaching  upon  any  passage  you 
will  make  the  most  patient  inquisition,  and 
under  the  guidance  of  acknowledged  mas- 
ters you  will  seek  to  realize  the  precise 
conditions  in  which  the  words  were  born. 
And  here  I  want  most  strongly  to  urge 
^,  ,you  to  cultivate  the  power  of  historical 
(/imagination:  I  mean  the  power  to  recon- 
stitute the  dead  realms  of  the  past  and  to 
repeople  them  with  moving  life.  We  shall  j 
never  grip  an  old-world  message  until  wej 
can  re-create  the  old-world  life.  Many  of" 
us  have  only  a  partial  power,  and  it  leaves 
us  with  maimed  interpretations.  To  a  cer- 
tain extent  we  can  refashion  the  past,  but 
it  is  like  Pompeii,  it  is  dead.  We  get  a 
setting,  but  not  the  life.  Things  are  not 
in  movement.  We  cannot  transpose  our- 
selves back  with  all  our  senses,  and  see 
things  in  all  their  play  and  interplay,  and 
catch  the  sounds  and  secrets  in  the  air, 
and    touch    the    hurrying    people    in    the 

[  122  ] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  STUDY 


streets,  or  nod  to  the  shepherd  on  the  hills. 
We  may  see  the  past  as  a  photograph: 
we  do  not  see  it  as  a  cinematograph. 
Things  are  not  alive!  And  to  see  men 
alive  is  by  no  means  an  easy  attainment. 
We  cannot  get  it  by  reverie:  it  is  the 
fruit  of  firm,  steady,  illumined  imagina- 
tion. 

How  are  we  to  preach  about  Amos  un- 
less we  can  live  with  him  on  the  hills  of 
Tekoa,  and  see  his  environment  as  if  it 
were  part  of  our  own  surroundings,  every 
sense  active  in  its  own  reception:  and  un- 
less we  can  go  with  him  into  Bethel,  and 
note  the  very  things  that  he  sees  along  the 
road,  and  see  the  moving,  tainted,  insincere 
and  rotten  life  which  is  congested  in  the 
town?  How  can  we  enter  into  the  teaching 
of  the  Prophet  Hosea  unless  by  the  power 
of  a  vividly  exercised  imagination  we  re- 
cover his  surroundings?  The  Book  of 
Hosea  is  filled  with  sights  and  sounds  and 
scents.  We  must  go  back  to  his  day  and 
all  our  senses  must  be  as  open  channels  to 
the  impressions  that  appealed  to  him.    We 

[123] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

must  go  with  him  along  the  streets,  we 
must  look  into  the  houses  and  workshops. 
We  must  see  the  baker  at  his  oven  and  kings 
and  princes  in  their  palace.  We  must  walk 
with  him  through  the  lanes  and  among 
the  fields  at  dawn  of  day  when  "  the  morn- 
ing cloud "  is  beginning  to  lift  and  the 
grass  is  drenched  with  "  the  early  dew." 
We  must  see  Hosea's  homeland  if  we 
would  intimately  appreciate  his  speech. 
Or,  again,  how  are  we  going  to  preach, 
say,  about  the  Lord's  tender  ministries  to 
the  leper  unless  we  can  get  into  the  leper's 
skin,  and  look  out  through  his  darkened 
windows,  and  shrink  with  his  timidity,  or 
come  running  with  him  along  the  highway, 
and  in  his  very  person  kneel  before  the 
Lord?  We  must  see  that  man,  hear  him, 
feel  him:  nay,  we  must  be  the  man  if  we 
would  know  how  to  preach  about  the  Mas- 
ter's words,  "  I  will,  be  thou  clean." 

I  am  urging  the  cultivation  of  the  his- 
torical imagination  because  I  am  persuaded 
that  the  want  of  it  so  often  gives  unreality 
to  our  preaching.    If  we  do  not  realize  the 

[124] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  STUDY 


past  we  cannot  get  its  vital  message  for 
the  present.  The  past  which  is  unfolded 
in  the  pages  of  Scripture  is  to  many  of  us 
very  wooden:  and  the  men  and  the  women 
are  wooden:  we  do  not  feel  their  breath- 
ing: we  do  not  hear  them  cry:  we  do  not 
hear  them  laugh:  we  do  not  mix  with  their 
humanness  and  find  that  they  are  just 
like  folk  in  the  next  street.  And  so  the 
message  is  not  alive.  It  does  not  pulse 
with  actuality.  It  is  too  often  a  dead  word 
belonging  to  a  dead  world,  and  it  has  no 
gripping  relevancy  to  the  throbbing  lives 
of  our  own  day.  And  so  I  urge  you  to 
cultivate  the  latent  power  of  realization, 
the  power  to  fill  with  breath  the  motion- 
less forms  of  the  past.  If  needful,  before 
you  preach  upon  an  old-world  message, 
spend  a  whole  morning  in  hard  endeavour 
to  recall  and  vitalize  the  old  world,  until 
it  becomes  so  vivid  that  you  can  scarcely 
tell  whether  you  are  a  preacher  in  your 
study,  or  a  citizen  in  some  village,  or  city, 
or  empire  of  the  past. 

Of  course,  you  will  consult  other  minds 

[125] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

upon  your  message,  not  that  you  may 
immediately  accept  their  judgments,  but 
that  you  may  pass  them  through  the  mill 
of  your  own  meditations.  Indeed  it  is, 
perhaps,  not  so  much  their  particular 
judgments  that  we  need  as  their  general 
points  of  view.  One  of  the  best  things  we 
can  obtain  from  a  man  is  not  individualized 
counsels  on  particular  problems,  but  the 
general  standpoint  from  which  he  surveys 
the  kingdom  of  truth.  I  know  it  is  neces- 
sary to  have  much  mental  fellowship  with 
a  man  before  you  gain  this  knowledge.  It 
is  easier  to  gather  his  opinions  than  to 
acquire  his  mental  attitudes  and  inclina- 
tions. It  is  easier  to  pick  up  the  verdicts 
of  his  mind  than  to  become  acquainted  with 
its  pose.  But  it  can  be  done.  We  may 
come  to  know,  with  sufficient  accuracy, 
how  a  man  would  approach  a  subject,  how 
he  would  lay  hold  of  it.  Now  I  think  it 
is  an  exceedingly  enriching  discipline  to 
seek  to  look  at  our  themes  from  other 
men's  points  of  view.  How  would  So-and- 
so  look  at  this?     By  what  road  would  he 

[126] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  STUDY 


approach  it?  One  of  our  English  maga- 
zines has  been  lately  propounding  prob- 
lems to  its  readers  of  this  kind.  One 
week  the  readers  were  asked  to  identify 
themselves  with  Dr.  Johnson,  with  his 
mind  and  heart  and  manner,  and  give  his 
probable  opinions  on  Woman's  Suffrage! 
And  I  think  some  such  similar  discipline 
must  be  employed  in  relation  to  our  in- 
terpretation of  the  Word.  If  I  may  give 
you  my  own  experience,  I  have  been  in  the 
habit  of  following  this  practice  for  many 
years.  I  ask, — how  would  Newman  re- 
gard this  subject?  How  would  Spurgeon 
approach  it?  How  would  Dale  deal  with 
it?  By  what  road  would  Bushnell  come 
up  to  it?  Where  would  Maclaren  take 
his  stand  to  look  at  it?  Where  would 
Alexander  Whyte  lay  hold  of  it?  You 
may  think  this  a  very  presumptuous  prac- 
tice, and  I  have  no  doubt  some  of  my  con- 
clusions would  horrify  the  saintly  men 
whose  heart-paths  I  have  presumed  to 
trace.  But  here  is  the  value  of  the  practice, 
it  broadens  and  enriches  my  own  concep- 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

tion  of  the  theme,  even  though  I  may  not 
have  correctly  interpreted  the  other  men's 
points  of  view.  I  have  looked  at  the 
theme  through  many  windows,  and  some 
things  appear  which  I  should  never  have 
seen  had  I  confined  myself  to  the  windows 
of  my  own  mind  and  heart. 

But  while  I  am  advising  you  to  consult 
other  minds  I  must  further  advise  you 
not  to  be  overwhelmed  by  them.  Rever- 
ently respect  your  own  individuality.  I  do 
not  advise  you  to  be  aggressively  singular, 
for  then  you  may  stand  revealed  as  a  crank, 
and  your  influence  will  be  gone.  But 
without  being  angular  believe  in  your  own 
angle,  and  work  upon  the  assumption  that 
it  is  through  your  own  unrepeated  per- 
sonality that  God  purposes  that  your  light 
should  break  upon  the  world.  Reverently 
believe  in  your  own  uniqueness,  and  con- 
secrate it  in  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
Be  yourself,  and  slavishly  imitate  nobody. 
We  do  not  want  mimic  greatness  but  great 
simplicity.  When  we  begin  to  imitate  we 
nearly    always    imitate    the    non-essentials, 

[  128  ] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  STUDY 

the  tertiary  things  that  scarcely  count.  In 
my  own  college  there  was  a  peril  of  our 
turning  out  a  species  of  dwarfed  or  min- 
iature Fairbairns.  We  could  so  easily  ac- 
quire the  trick  of  his  style, — that  sharp 
antithetical  sentence,  doubling  back  upon 
itself,  and  which  we  fashioned  like  stand- 
ardized pieces  of  machinery  cast  in  a  foun- 
dry! I  believe  I  became  rather  an  expert 
in  the  process,  and  for  some  time  I  carried 
the  Fairbairn  moulds  about  with  me,  only 
unfortunately  there  w^as  nothing  in  them! 
And  so  I  counsel  you  not  to  borrow  any- 
body's moulds  of  experience,  and  not  to 
be  intimidated  by  any  other  man's  point 
of  view.  Consult  him,  be  grateful  for  his 
judgments,  but  revere  your  own  individ- 
uality, and  respect  the  processes  and  find- 
ings of  your  own  mind.  You  will  find  that 
the  freshness  of  your  own  originality  will 
give  new  flavour  and  zest  to  the  feast 
which  you  set  before  your  people. 

When  your  subject  is  chosen,  and  you 
have  had  the  guidance  of  all  that  sound 
scholarship  can  give  you,  and  you  have  had 

[129] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

enriching  communion  with  many  minds,  do 
not  feel  obliged  to  preach  upon  the  theme 
on  the  following  Sunday.  It  may  be  that 
a  word  will  lay  hold  of  you  so  imperatively 
as  to  make  you  feel  that  its  proclamation 
is  urgent,  and  that  its  hour  has  come.  But 
I  think  it  frequently  happens  that  we  go 
into  the  pulpit  with  truth  that  is  undi- 
gested and  with  messages  that  are  im- 
mature. Our  minds  have  not  done  their 
work  thoroughly,  and  when  we  present  our 
work  to  the  public  there  is  a  good  deal  of 
floating  sediment  in  our  thought,  and  a 
consequent  cloudiness  about  our  words. 
Now  it  is  a  good  thing  to  put  a  subject 
away  to  mature  and  clarify.  When  my 
grandmother  was  making  cider  she  used  to 
let  it  stand  for  long  seasons  in  the  sun- 
light "to  give  it  a  soul!"  And  I  think 
that  many  of  our  sermons,  when  the  pre- 
liminary work  has  been  done,  should  be 
laid  aside  for  a  while,  before  they  are 
offered  to  our  congregations.  There  are 
subconscious  powers  in  the  life  that  seem 
to  continue  the  ripening  process  when  our 

riBOl 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  STUDY 

active  judgments  are  engaged  elsewhere. 
The  subject  *'  gets  a  soul,"  the  sediment 
settles  down,  and  in  its  lucidity  it  becomes 
like  "  the  river  of  water  of  life,  clear  as 
crystal."  Every  preacher  of  experience 
will  tell  you  that  he  has  some  sermons  that 
have  been  "  standing  in  the  sun "  for 
years,  slowly  maturing,  and  clarifying, 
but  not  yet  ready  to  offer  to  the  people. 
One  of  my  congregation  in  Birmingham 
once  asked  Dr.  Dale  to  preach  upon  a 
certain  text  in  the  epistle  to  the  Romans, 
and  he  said  he  would  seriously  think  about 
it.  Long  afterwards  she  reminded  him  of 
his  promise,  and  she  asked  him  when  the 
sermon  was  coming.  Dr.  Dale  answered 
her  with  great  seriousness,  "  It  is  not  ready 
yet!"  At  another  time  he  \tas  asked  by 
another  of  his  people  to  preach  a  course 
of  sermons  on  some  of  the  great  evan- 
gelical chapters  in  the  book  of  the  prophe- 
cies of  Isaiah.  He  made  the  same  reply, 
"  I  am  not  ready  yet."  I  came  upon  a 
similar  instance  in  the  life  of  Beecher. 
He  was  to  preach  at  an  ordination  service 

[131] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

in  New  England.  He  said  to  Dr.  Lyman 
Abbott,  "  I  think  I  shall  preach  a  sermon 
on  pulpit  dynamics;  you  had  better  look 
out  for  it."  "  I  did  look  for  it,"  continued 
Dr.  Abbott,  "  and  it  was  nothing  but  a 
description  of  the  incidental  advantages  of 
the  ministry  as  a  profession.  When  I 
next  met  Beecher  I  asked,  '  Where  is  that 
sermon  on  pulpit  dynamics? '  *  It  was  not 
ripe,'  he  replied." 

The  weakness  of  smaller  preachers  is 
that  their  time  is  "  always  ready " :  the 
mighty  preachers  have  long  seasons  when 
they  know  their  time  "  is  not  yet  come." 
They  have  the  strength  to  go  slowly  and 
even  to  "  stand."  They  do  not  "  rush  into 
print,"  or  into  speech,  with  "  unpropor- 
tioned  thought."  They  can  keep  the 
message  back,  sometimes  for  years,  until 
some  day  there  is  a  soul  in  it,  and  a  move- 
ment about  it,  which  tells  them  "  the  hour 
is  come."  Beware  of  the  facility  which, 
if  given  a  day's  notice,  is  ready  to  preach 
on  anj^thing!  Let  us  cultivate  the  strength 
of  leisureliness,  the  long,  strong  processes 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  STUDY 

of  meditation,  the  self-control  that  refuses 
to  be  premature,  the  discipline  that  can 
patiently  await  maturity.  "  Let  patience 
have  her  perfect  work." 

I  have  a  conviction  that  no  sermon  is 
ready  for  preaching,  not  ready  for  writing 
out,  until  we  can  express  its  theme  in  a 
short,  pregnant  sentence  as  clear  as  a 
crystal.  I  find  the  getting  of  that  sentence 
is  the  hardest,  the  most  exacting,  and  the 
most  fruitful  labour  in  my  study.  To 
compel  oneself  to  fashion  that  sentence, 
to  dismiss  every  word  that  is  vague, 
ragged,  ambiguous,  to  think  oneself 
through  to  a  form  of  words  which  defines 
the  theme  with  scrupulous  exactness, — this 
is  surely  one  of  the  most  vital  and  essential 
factors  in  the  making  of  a  sermon:  and  I 
do  not  think  any  sermon  ought  to  be 
preached  or  even  written,  until  that  sen- 
tence has  emerged,  clear  and  lucid  as  a 
cloudless  moon.  Do  not  confuse  obscurity 
with  profundity,  and  do  not  imagine  that 
lucidity  is  necessarily  shallow.  Let  the 
preacher   bind  himself   to   the   pursuit   of 

[133] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

clear  conceptions,  and  let  him  aid  his  pur- 
suit by  demanding  that  every  sermon  he 
preaches  shall  express  its  theme  and  pur- 
pose in  a  sentence  as  lucid  as  his  powers 
can  command.  All  this  will  mean  that  the 
preparation  of  Sunday's  sermons  cannot 
begin  on  Saturday  morning  and  finish  on 
Saturday  night.  The  preparation  is  a 
long  process:  the  best  sermons  are  not 
made,  they  grow:  they  have  their  analogies, 
not  in  the  manufactory,  but  in  the  garden 
and  the  field. 

I  need  not,  perhaps,  say  that  in  all 
the  leisurely  preparation  of  a  sermon 
we  must  keep  in  constant  and  imme- 
diate relation  to  life.  The  sermon  is  not 
to  be  a  disquisition  on  abstract  truth,  some 
clever  statement  of  unapplied  philosophy, 
some  brilliant  handling  of  remote  meta- 
physics. The  sermon  must  be  a  proclama- 
tion of  truth  as  vitally  related  to  living 
men  and  women.  It  must  touch  life  where 
the  touch  is  significant,  both  in  its  crises 
and  its  commonplaces.  It  must  be  truth 
that  travels  closely  with  men,  up   hill,   down 

[134] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  STUDY 

hill,  or  over  the  monotonous  plain.  And, 
therefore,  the  preacher's  message  must  first 
of  all  "  touch  "  the  preacher  himself.  It 
must  be  truth  that  "  finds  "  him  in  his  daily 
life,  truth  that  lies  squarely  upon  his  own 
circumstances,  that  fits  his  necessities,  that 
fills  the  gaps  of  his  needs  as  the  inflowing 
tide  fills  the  baj^s  and  coves  along  the 
shore.  If  the  truth  he  preaches  has  no 
urgent  relation  to  himself,  if  it  does  no 
business  down  his  road,  if  it  offers  no  close 
and  serious  fellowship  in  his  journeyings, 
the  sermon  had  best  be  laid  aside.  But  the 
truth  of  a  sermon  must  also  make  recogni- 
tion of  lives  more  varied  than  our  own, 
and  in  the  preparation  of  our  sermons 
these  must  be  kept  in  mind.  I  know  that 
God  "  hath  fashioned  their  hearts  alike," 
and  that  the  fundamental  needs  of  men  are 
everywhere  the  same:  and  yet  there  are 
great  diflPerences  in  temperament,  and  vast 
varieties  of  circumstances,  of  which  we 
have  to  take  account  if  our  message  is  to 
find  entry  into  new  lives,  and  to  have 
both    attraction    and    authority.      Perhaps 

[135] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

you  will  permit  me  to  illustrate  by  men- 
itioning  my  own  plan.  When  I  have  got 
my  theme  clearly  defined,  and  I  begin  to 
prepare  its  exposition,  I  keep  in  the  circle 
of  my  mind  at  least  a  dozen  men  and 
women,  very  varied  in  their  natural  tem- 
peraments, and  very  dissimilar  in  their 
daily  circumstances.  These  are  not  mere 
abstractions.  Neither  are  they  dolls  or 
dummies.  They  are  real  men  and  women 
whom  I  know:  professional  people,  trading 
people,  learned  and  ignorant,  rich  .and 
poor.  When  I  am  preparing  my  work, 
my  mind  is  constantly  glancing  round 
this  invisible  circle,  and  I  consider  how  I 
can  so  serve  the  bread  of  this  particular 
truth  as  to  provide  welcome  nutriment  for 
all.  What  relation  has  this  teaching  to 
that  barrister?  How  can  the  truth  be  re- 
lated to  that  doctor?  What  have  I  here 
for  that  keenly  nervous  man  with  the 
artistic  temperament?  And  there  is  that 
poor  body  upon  whom  the  floods  of  sorrow 
have  been  rolling  their  billows  for  many 
years — what  about   her?     And   so   on   all 

[136] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  STUDY 

round  the  circle.  You  may  not  like  my 
method:  it  probably  would  not  suit  you, 
and  you  may  devise  a  better:  but  at  any 
rate  it  does  this  for  me, — in  all  my  prep- 
aration it  keeps  me  in  actual  touch  with 
life,  with  real  men  and  women,  moving 
in  the  common  streets,  exposed  to  life's 
varying  weathers,  the  "  garish  day,"  and 
the  cold  night,  the  gentle  dew  and  the  driv- 
ing blast.  It  keeps  me  on  the  common 
earth:  it  saves  me  from  losing  myself  in 
the  clouds.  Gentlemen,  our  messages  must 
be  related  to  life,  to  lives,  and  we  must 
make  everybody  feel  that  our  key  fits  the 
lock  of  his  own  private  door. 

With  our  purpose  thus  clearly  defined, 
and  keeping  sight  of  actual  men  and 
women,  we  shall  arrange  our  thought  and 
message  accordingly.  There  will  be  one 
straight  road  of  exposition,  making  directly 
for  the  enlightenment  of  the  mind,  leading 
on  to  the  capture  of  the  judgment,  on  to 
the  rousing  of  the  conscience,  on  to  the 
conquest  of  the  will.  This  last  sentence 
used  figures  of  speech  that  are  significant 

[137] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

of  military  tactics,  and  we  do,  indeed,  re- 
quire something  of  military  strategy,  in 
its  vigilance  and  ingenuity,  in  seeking  to 
win  Mansoul  for  the  Lord.  How  to  so 
expound  and  arrange  the  truth,  along  what 
particular  ways  to  direct  it,  so  as  to  change 
foes  into  allies  and  enlarge  the  bounds  of 
the  Kingdom  of  Christ, — that  is  the  prob- 
lem that  confronts  the  preacher  every  time 
he  prepares  his  sermon.  And  it  may  be, 
it  probably  will  be,  that  you  will  reject 
outline  after  outline,  outline  after  outline, 
discarding  them  all  as  too  indefinite  and 
uncertain,  until  one  is  planned  which  seems 
to  lead  undeviatingly  to  the  much-desired 
end.  First  get  your  bare  straight  road, 
with  a  clear  issue:  go  no  further  until  that 
road  is  made:  later  on  you  may  open 
springs  of  refreshment,  and  you  may 
have  even  flowers  and  bird-song  along 
the  way.  But,  first  of  all,  I  say,  "  Pre- 
pare ye  the  waj^  of  the  people:  '^ast  up, 
cast  up  the  highway:  gather  out  the 
stones." 

When  all  the  preliminary  labour  is  fin- 

[138] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  STUDY 

ished,  and  you  begin  to  write  your  message, 
let  me  advise  you  not  to  be  the  bondslave 
to  much-worn  phraseology,  and  to  forms  of 
expression  which  have  ceased  to  be  signifi- 
cant. I  do  not  counsel  you  to  be  unduly 
aggressive,  and  still  less,  irreverent,  in  your 
treatment  of  old  terminology,  but  you  will 
find  amazing  power  in  the  newness  of  care- 
fully chosen  expressions,  offered  as  new 
vehicles  of  old  truth.  A  famous  doctor 
told  me  that  sickly  people  are  often  helped 
in  their  appetites  by  a  frequent  change  of 
the  ware  on  which  their  food  is  served. 
The  new  ware  gives  a  certain  freshness  to 
the  accustomed  food.  And  so  it  is  in  the 
ministry  of  the  v/ord.  A  "  new  way  of 
putting  a  thing "  awakens  zest  and  in- 
terest where  the  customary  expression 
might  leave  the  hearer  listless  and  indiffer- 
ent. 

And  in  this  matter  of  expression  let  me 
add  one  further  word.  Do  not  foolishly  at- 
tach value  to  carelessness  and  disorder.  Pay 
sacred  heed  to  the  ministry  of  style.  When 
you  have  discovered  a  jewel  give  it   the 

[139] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

most  appropriate  setting.  When  you  have 
discovered  a  truth  give  it  the  noblest  ex- 
pression you  can  find.  A  fine  thought 
can  bear,  indeed  it  demands,  a  fine  expres- 
sion. A  well-ordered,  well-shaped  sen- 
tence, carrying  a  body  and  weight  of 
truth,  will  strangely  influence  even  the  un- 
cultured hearer.  We  make  a  fatal  mis- 
take if  we  assume  that  uncultivated  peo- 
ple love  the  uncouth.  I  have  heard  Henry 
Drummond  address  a  meeting  of  "  waifs 
and  strays,"  a  sombre  little  company  of 
ragged,  neglected,  Edinburgh  youngsters, 
and  he  spake  to  them  with  a  simplicity  and 
a  finished  refinement  which  added  the 
spell  of  beauty  to  the  vigour  of  the  truth. 
There  was  no  luxuriance,  no  flowery 
rhetoric:  nothing  of  that  sort:  but  the 
style  was  the  servant  of  the  truth,  and, 
whether  he  was  giving  warning  or  en- 
couragement, making  them  laugh  or  mak- 
ing them  wonder,  the  sentences  were  "  gen- 
tlemanly," a  combination  of  beauty  and 
strength. 

And   as    for    the    illustrations    we    may 

[140] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  STUDY 


use  in  our  exposition  of  a  truth  I  have 
only  one  word  to  say.  An  illustration  that  ^ 
requires  explanation  is  worthless.  A  lamp 
should  do  its  own  work.  I  have  seen 
illustrations  that  were  like  pretty  drawing- 
room  lamps,  calling  attention  to  them- 
selves. A  real  preacher's  illustrations  are 
like  street  lamps,  scarcely  noticed,  but 
throwing  floods  of  light  upon  the  road. 
Ornamental  lamps  will  be  of  little  or  no 
use  to  you:  honest  street-lamps  will  serve 
your  purpose  at  every  turning. 

Thus  I  conclude  this  consideration  of 
"  the  preacher  in  his  study."  I  need  not 
remind  you,  after  all  I  have  said,  that  "  a 
heavenly  frame  of  mind  is  the  best  inter- 
preter of  Scripture."  Unless  our  study  is 
also  our  oratory  we  shall  have  no  visions. 
We  shall  be  "  ever  learning  and  never 
able  to  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
truth."  In  these  realms  even  hard  work 
is  fruitless  unless  we  have  "  the  fellowship 
of  the  Holy  Spirit."  But  if  our  study  be 
our  sanctuary,  "  the  secret  place  of  the 
Most  High,"  then  the  promise  of  ancient 

[141] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

days  shall  be  fulfilled  in  us,  "  the  eyes  of 
them  that  see  shall  not  be  dim,  and  the 
ears  of  them  that  hear  shall  hearken " : 
and  the  work  of  the  Lord  shall  have  free 
course  and  be  glorified. 


[142] 


THE   PREACHER   IN    HIS   PULPIT 

'*The  service  of  the  sanctuary'^ 


LECTURE      .      FIVE 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  PULPIT 

"  The  service  of  the  sanctuary " 

I  AM  to  speak  to-day  on  the  preacher's 
life  and  ministry  in  the  pulpit.  There 
is  no  sphere  of  labour  more  endowed 
with  holy  privilege  and  sacred  promise,  and 
there  is  no  sphere  where  a  man's  im- 
poverishment can  be  so  painfully  obtrusive. 
The  pulpit  may  be  the  centre  of  over- 
whelming power,  and  it  may  be  the  scene 
of  tragic  disaster.  What  is  the  significance 
of  our  calling  when  we  stand  in  the  pulpit? 
It  is  our  God-appointed  office  to  lead  men 
and  women  who  are  weary  or  wayward, 
exultant  or  depressed,  eager  or  indifferent, 
into  "  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High." 
We  are  to  help  the  sinful  to  the  fountain 
of  cleansing,  the  bondslaves  to  the  won- 
derful songs  of  deliverance.  We  are  to 
help  the  halt  and  the  lame  to  recover  their 
lost  nimbleness.  We  are  to  help  the 
broken-winged    into    the    healing   light    of 

[  1 15  ] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

"  the  heavenly  places  in  Christ  Jesus." 
We  are  to  help  the  sad  into  the  sunshine 
of  grace.  We  are  to  help  the  buoyant 
to  clothe  themselves  with  "  the  garment 
of  praise."  We  are  to  help  to  redeem  the 
strong  from  the  atheism  of  pride,  and  the 
weak  from  the  atheism  of  despair.  We 
are  to  help  little  children  to  see  the  glori- 
ous attractiveness  of  God,  and  we  are  to 
help  the  aged  to  realize  the  encompassing 
care  of  the  Father  and  the  assurance  of 
the  eternal  home.  This  is  something  of 
what  our  calling  means  when  we  enter  the 
pulpit  of  the  sanctuary.  And  our  possible 
glory  is  this,  we  may  do  it.  And  our 
possible  shame  is  this,  we  may  hinder  it. 
When  "  the  sick  and  the  diseased "  are 
gathered  together  we  may  be  ministers  or 
barriers  to  their  healing.  We  may  be 
added  encumbrances  or  spiritual  helps. 
We  may  be  stumbling-blocks  over  which 
our  people  have  to  climb  in  their  desire  to 
commune  with  God. 

,  Now  we  may  not  be  able  to  command 
intellectual  power.     Ours  may  not  be  the 

[146] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  PULPIT 

gifts  of  exegetical  insight,  and  luminous 
interpretation,  and  forceful  and  unique  ex- 
pression. We  may  never  astound  men  by 
a  display  of  cleverness,  or  by  massive  ar- 
gumentative structures  compel  their  ad- 
miration. But  there  is  another  and  a 
better  way  at  our  command.  With  the 
powers  and  means  that  are  ours  we  can 
build  a  plain,  simple,  honest  altar,  and 
we  can  invoke  and  secure  the  sacred  fire. 
If  we  can  never  be  "  great  "  in  the  pulpit, 
when  judged  by  worldly  values,  we  can 
be  prayerfully  ambitious  to  be  pure,  and 
sincere,  and  void  of  offence.  If  the  me- 
dium is  not  "  big  "  we  can  make  sure  that 
it  is  clean,  and  that  there  is  an  open  and 
uninterrupted  channel  for  the  waters  of 
grace. 

To  this  end  I  think  it  is  needful,  before 
we  go  into  the  pulpit,  to  define  to  ourselves, 
in  simple,  decisive  terms,  what  we  con- 
ceive to  be  the  purpose  of  the  service.  Let 
us  clearly  formulate  the  end  at  which  we 
aim.  Let  us  put  it  into  words.  Don't 
let  it  hide  in  the  cloudy  realm  of  vague 

[147] 


THE  PREACHER:  PHS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

assumptions.  Let  us  arrest  ourselves  in 
the  very  midst  of  our  assumptions,  and 
compel  ourselves  to  name  and  register 
our  ends.  Let  us  take  a  pen  in  hand, 
and  in  order  that  we  may  still  further 
banish  the  peril  of  vacuity  let  us  commit 
to  paper  our  purpose  and  ambition  for 
the  day.  Let  us  give  it  the  objectivity  of 
a  mariner's  chart:  let  us  survey  our  course, 
and  steadily  contemplate  our  haven.  If, 
when  we  turn  to  the  pulpit  stair,  some 
angel  were  to  challenge  us  for  the  state- 
ment of  our  mission,  we  ought  to  be  able 
to  make  immediate  answer,  without  hesi- 
tancy or  stammering,  that  this  or  that  is 
the  urgent  errand  on  which  we  seek  to 
serve  our  Lord  to-day.  But  the  weakness 
of  the  pulpit  is  too  often  this: — we  are 
prone  to  drift  through  a  service  when  we 
ought  to  steer.  Too  often  "  we  are  out  on 
the  ocean  sailing,"  but  we  have  no  destina- 
tion: we  are  "out  for  anywhere,''  and  for 
nowhere  in  particular.  The  consequence 
is,  the  service  has  the  fashion  of  a  vagrancy 
when  it  ought  to  be  possessed  by  the  spirit 

[148] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  PULPIT 

of  a  crusade.  On  the  other  hand  a  lofty, 
single,  imperial  end  knits  together  the  de- 
tached elements  in  the  service,  it  makes 
everything  co-operative,  and  all  are  related 
and  vitalized  by  the  pervasive  influence  of 
the  common  purpose.  "  Who  keeps  one 
end  in  view  makes  all  things  serve."  If 
the  end  we  seek  is  "  the  glory  of  God " 
everything  in  the  service  will  pay  tribute 
to  the  quest. 

Now  let  us  see  what  this  clearly  formu- 
lated sense  of  sacred  purpose  will  do  for 
us.  First  of  all,  it  will  ensure  the  strong, 
gracious  presences  of  reverence  and  order. 
Irreverence  emerges  when  there  is  no 
sense  of  "  the  high  calling."  We  "  tram- 
ple the  courts  of  the  Lord  "  when  we  lose 
our  sight  of  the  gleam.  Unless  we  see 
*'  the  Lord,  high  and  lifted  up,"  irrever- 
ent and  disorderly  things  will  appear  in 
our  conduct  of  the  service.  We  cannot 
keep  them  out.  We  shall  sprawl  and 
lounge  about  the  pulpit.  We  shall  take 
little  part  in  the  worship  we  profess  to 
lead.      Our    idle    curiosity    will    be    more 

[149] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

active  than  our  spiritual  obedience.  We 
shall  be  tempted  to  be  flippant  in  tone, 
to  be  careless  in  speech,  and  sometimes  we 
may  be  tripped  into  actual  coarseness  and 
vulgarity.  The  first  necessity  to  a  refined 
pulpit  ministry  is  reverence,  and  if  we  are 
to  be  reverent  our  eyes  must  be  stayed 
upon  "  The  King  in  His  beauty." 

But  let  me  mention  a  second  security 
which  is  attained  when  the  service  is  domi- 
nated by  some  great  and  exalted  end.  It 
will  defend  the  preacher  from  the  peril  of 
ostentatious  display.  He  will  have  power, 
but  it  will  not  be  an  exhibition.  He  will 
have  light,  but  in  the  glory  he  himself 
will  be  eclipsed.  His  ministry  will  be 
transparent,  not  opaque.  The  vision  of  his 
people  will  not  be  stayed  on  him,  it  will 
gaze  beyond  him  to  the  exalted  Lord. 
When  I  was  in  Northfield  two  years  ago 
I  went  out  early  one  morning  to  conduct 
a  camp-meeting  away  in  the  woods.  The 
camp-dwellers  were  two  or  three  hundred 
men  from  the  Water  Street  Mission  in 
New  York.    At  the  beginning  of  the  serv- 

[150] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  PULPIT.  , 

ice  prayer  was  offered  for  me,  and  the 
prayer  opened  with  this  inspired  supplica- 
tion: "  O  Lord,  we  thank  Thee  for  our 
brother.  Now  blot  him  out!"  And  the 
prayer  continued:  "Reveal  Thy  glory  to 
us  in  such  blazing  splendour  that  he  shall 
be  forgotten."  It  was  absolutely  right  and 
I  trust  the  prayer  was  answered.  But, 
gentlemen,  if  w^e  ourselves  are  gazing  upon 
the  glory  of  the  Lord  we  shall  be  blotted 
out  in  our  own  transparency.  If  we  are 
seeking  the  glory  of  the  Lord  there  will 
be  about  us  a  purity,  and  a  simplicity, 
and  a  singleness  of  devotion  which  will 
minister  to  the  unveiling  of  the  King,  and 
men  will  "  see  no  man,  save  Jesus  only." 
Everything  in  the  service  will  be  signifi- 
cant, but  nothing  will  be  obtrusive.  Every- 
thing will  meekly  fall  into  place,  and  will 
contribute  to  a  reverent  and  sober  set- 
ting in  which  our  Lord  will  be  revealed, 
"  full  of  grace  and  truth." 

Now  all  this  will  mean  a  revolution  in 
the  way  in  which  some  parts  of  the  serv- 
ice are  conducted.     I  would  have  you  seri- 

[151] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

ously  consider  the  pathetic,  nay  the  tragic 
weakness  of  much  of  our  devotional  wor- 
ship. We  frequently  fix  our  attention 
upon  the  sermon  when  we  seek  to  account 
for  the  comparative  impotency  of  a  service, 
when  perhaps  the  real  cause  of  paralysis 
is  to  be  found  in  our  dead  and  deadening 
communion  with  God.  There  is  nothing 
mightier  than  the  utterance  of  spontaneous 
prayer  when  it  is  born  in  the  depths  of  the 
soul.  But  there  is  nothing  more  dread- 
fully unimpressive  than  extemporary 
Sprayer  which  leaps  about  on  the  surfaces 
of  things,  a  disorderly  dance  of  empty 
words,  going  we  know  not  whither, — a 
mob  of  words  carrying  no  blood,  bearing 
no  secret  of  the  soul,  a  whirl  of  insignifi- 
cant expressions,  behind  which  there  is  no 
vital  pulse,  no  silent  cry  from  lone  and 
desolate  depths. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  trace  some  of  these 
weaknesses  in  pulpit  prayer  to  their  deeper 
cause.  First  of  all,  they  are  to  be  ac- 
counted for  by  our  own  shallow  spiritual 
experience.     We  cannot  be  strong  leaders 

[152] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  PULPIT 

of  intercession  unless  we  have  a  deep  and 
growing  acquaintance  with  the  secret  ways 
of  the  soul.  We  need  to  know  its  sick- 
nesses,— its  times  of  defilement,  and  faint- 
ing, and  despair.  We  must  know  its  cries 
and  moans  when  it  has  been  trapped  by 
sin,  or  when  it  has  been  wearied  with 
the  license  of  unhallowed  freedom.  And 
we  must  know  the  soul  in  its  healings, 
when  life  is  in  the  ascendant,  when  spirit- 
ual death  has  lost  its  sting,  and  the  spiritual 
grave  its  victory.  And  we  must  know  the 
soul  in  its  convalescence,  when  weakness 
is  being  conquered  as  well  as  disease,  and 
life  is  recovering  its  lost  powers  of  song. 
And  we  must  know  the  soul  in  its  health, 
when  exuberance  has  returned,  and  in  its 
joyful  buoyancy  it  can  "  leap  as  an  hart." 
How  are  we  going  to  lead  a  congregation 
in  praj^er  if  these  things  are  hidden  from 
us  as  in  unknown  worlds?  I  confess  I 
often  shrink  from  the  obligation,  when  I 
think  of  the  richly-experienced  souls  whom 
I  have  to  lead  in  prayer  and  praise.  I 
think  of  the  depths  and  the  heights  of  their 

[153] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

knowledge  of  God.  I  think  of  their  sense 
of  sin.  I  think  of  their  rapture  in  the 
blessedness  of  forgiveness.  And  I  have  to 
be  their  medium  in  public  worship  for  the 
expression  of  their  confessions,  and  their 
aspirations,  and  their  adoring  praise!  I 
feel  that  I  am  like  a  shepherd's  pipe  when 
they  need  an  organ!  They  must  often  be 
"  straitened "  in  me  in  the  exercises  of 
public  communion.  The  preacher's  shallow 
experiences  offer  one  explanation  of  the 
poverty  of  his  intercession. 

But  there  is  a  second  reason  why  our 
public  devotions  are  frequently  so  im- 
poverished. It  is  to  be  found  in  our  im- 
perfect appreciation  of  the  supreme  and 
vital  importance  of  these  parts  of  our  serv- 
ices. They  are  sometimes  described  as 
"  the  preliminaries,"  matters  merely  con- 
cerning the  threshold,  a  sort  of  indifferent 
passageway  leading  to  a  lighted  room  for 
the  main  performance!  I  do  not  know 
any  word  which  is  more  significant  of 
mistaken  emphasis  and  mistaken  values, 
and     wherever     it     is     truly     descriptive 

[154] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  PULPIT 

of  our  devotions  the  congregation, 
which  looks  to  the  pulpit  for  sacred 
guidance  will  find  barrenness  and  night. 
if  we  think  of  prayer  as  one  of  "  the 
preliminaries "  we  shall  treat  it  accord- 
ingly. We  shall  stumble  up  to  it.  We 
shall  stumble  through  it.  We  shall  say 
"  just  what  comes  to  us,"  for  anything 
that  "  comes  "  will  be  as  good  as  anything 
else!  Anything  will  do  for  a  "prelimi- 
nary." We  have  prepared  the  words  we 
are  to  speak  to  man,  but  any  heedless 
speech  will  suffice  for  our  communion  with 
God!  And  so  our  prayerful  people  are 
chilled,  and  our  prayerless  people  are  hard- 
ened. We  have  offered  unto  the  Lord 
God  a  "  preliminary,"  and  lo:  "  the  heavens 
are  as  brass,"  and  "  the  earth  receives  no 
rain." 

And  I  would  mention,  as  a  third  reason 
for  the  weakness  and  shallowness  of  public 
devotion,  the  preacher's  lack  of  prayerful- 
ness  in  private.  If  we  are  strangers  to 
the  way  of  communion  in  private  we  shall 
certainly  miss  it  in  public.     The  man  who 

[155] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

is  much  in  "  the  way "  instinctively  finds 
the  garden,  and  its  fragrant  spices,  and 
its  wonderfully  bracing  air,  and  he  can 
lead  others  into  it.  But  here,  more  than 
in  anything  else,  our  secret  life  will  de- 
termine our  public  power.  Men  never 
learn  to  pray  in  public:  they  learn  in 
private.  We  cannot  put  off  our  private 
habits  and  assume  public  ones  with  our 
pulpit  robes.  If  prayer  is  an  insignificant 
item  in  private  it  will  be  an  almost  ir- 
relevant "  preliminary  "  in  public.  If  we 
are  never  in  Gethsemane  when  alone  we 
shall  not  find  our  way  there  with  the 
crowd.  If  we  never  cry  "  out  of  the 
depths  "  when  no  one  is  near  there  will  be 
no  such  cry  when  we  are  with  the  multitude. 
I  repeat  that  our  habits  are  fashioned  in 
private,  and  a  man  cannot  change  his  skin 
by  merely  putting  on  his  gown. 

I  am  fixing  your  thoughts  upon  this 
common  weakness  in  pulpit  devotions  be- 
cause I  am  persuaded  it  is  here  we  touch 
the  root  of  much  of  our  pulpit  incapacity. 
If  men  are  unmoved  by  our  prayers  they 

[156] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  PULPIT 

are  not  likely  to  be  profoundly  stirred  by 
our  preaching.  I  cannot  think  that  there 
will  ever  be  more  vital  power  in  our  ser- 
mons than  in  our  intercessions.  The  power 
that  upheaves  the  deepest  life  of  the  soul 
begins  to  move  upon  us  while  we  com- 
mune with  God.  The  climax  may  come  in 
the  sermon:  the  vital  preparations  are 
made  in  the  devotions.  I  have  heard  pul- 
pit intercessions  so  tremendous  in  their 
reach,  so  filled  with  God,  so  awe-inspiring, 
so  subduing,  so  melting,  that  it  was  simply 
impossible  they  should  be  followed  by  an 
unimpressive  sermon.  The  "  way  of  the 
Lord  "  had  been  prepared.  The  soul  was 
awake  and  on  its  knees,  and  the  message 
came  as  the  uplifting  "  power  of  God 
unto  salvation."  And  on  the  other  hand  I 
have  heard  praj^ers  so  wooden,  so  leaden, 
so  dead,  or  with  only  a  show  of  life  in 
loud  tones  and  crude  declamation,  that  it 
was  simply  impossible  to  have  sermons  full 
of  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  I  would 
therefore  urge  you,  when  you  are  in  your 
pulpit,  to  regard  the  prayers  as  the  essen- 

[157] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

tials  and  not  the  "  preliminaries "  of  the 
service,  and  to  regard  your  sermon  as  a 
lamp  whose  arresting  beams  are  to  be  fed 
by  a  holy  oil  which  flows  from  the  olive  tree 
of  sacred  communion  with  God. 

And  there  is  a  second  "  preliminary  "  in 
public  worship  which  needs  to  be  lifted  into 
primary  significance, — our  reading  of  the 
w^ord  of  God.  Too  frequently  the  Scrip- 
ture-lc  3on  is  just  something  to  be  "  got 
through."  No  careful  and  diligent  work 
is  given  to  its  choice.  No  fine  honour  is  as- 
signed to  it  in  the  service.  And  the  con- 
sequence is  this,  the  "  lesson "  is  one  of 
the  dead  spots  in  the  service,  and  its 
deadening  influence  chills  the  entire  wor- 
ship. The  momentous  message  is  given 
without  momentousness,  and  it  is  devoid  of 
even  the  ordinary  impressiveness  which  be- 
longs to  common  literature.  How  few  of 
us  remember  services  where  the  Scripture- 
lesson  gripped  the  congregation  and  held 
it  in  awed  and  intelligent  wonder!  They 
tell  us  that  Nev/man's  reading  of  the 
Scriptures  at  Oxford  was  as  great  a  sea- 

[158] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  PULPIT 

son  as  his  preaching.  I  know  one  man 
who  always  lights  up  the  Burial  Service 
by  the  wonderful  way  in  which  he  reads 
the  resurrection  chapter  in  Paul's  letter  to 
the  Corinthians.  While  he  reads  you  can 
see  and  feel  the  morn  dawning,  even 
though  you  are  in  the  home  of  the  dead! 
You  should  have  heard  Spurgeon  read  the 
103d  Psalm!  It  is  a  mighty  experience 
when  a  lesson  is  so  read  that  it  becomes 
the  sermon,  and  the  living  w^ord  grips  with- 
out an  exposition.  I  said,  "  without  an 
exposition."  But  there  are  expositions 
which  are  given  in  our  manner,  in  our 
demeanour,  in  the  very  tones  of  our  voice, 
in  our  entire  bearing.  I  have  been  told 
that  there  was  a  fine  and  impressive  hom- 
age in  the  way  in  which  John  Angel 
James  used  to  open  his  pulpit  Bible,  and 
an  equally  subduing  impressiveness  in  the 
way  in  which  he  closed  it.  These  are  not 
little  tricks,  taught  by  elocutionists:  they 
are  the  fruits  of  character.  If  they  are 
learned  as  little  tricks  they  will  only  add  to 
the  artificiality  of  the  service;  if  they  are 

[159] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

"  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit "  they  will  tend 
to  vitalize  it. 

If  Scripture  is  to  be  impressively  read 
it  is  of  first  importance  that  we  understand 
it,  that  we  have  some  idea  of  the  general 
contour  of  the  wonderful  country,  even 
though  there  are  countless  heights  that  we 
have  never  climbed,  and  countless  depths 
that  we  have  never  fathomed.  And  if  we 
are  to  have  even  this  partial  understanding 
of  the  lesson  we  must  be  prepared  to  give 
pains  to  it.  I  was  deeply  interested  when  I 
first  went  to  Carrs  Lane  to  examine  Dr. 
Dale's  copy  of  the  Revised  Version  from 
which  he  read  the  lessons  in  his  pulpit.  It 
bore  signs  of  the  most  diligent  devotion. 
In  difficult  chapters  the  emphatic  words 
were  carefully  marked,  and  parenthetical 
clauses  and  passages  were  clearly  defined. 
Dr.  Dale's  making  of  an  emphasis  has 
sometimes  been  to  me  a  revelation  when  I 
have  read  from  his  copy  in  the  conduct  of 
public  worship.  I  mention  this  only  to 
show  what  consecrated  care  one  great  ex- 
positor gave  to  the  reading  of  the  Scrip- 

[160] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  PULPIT 

tures.  It  is  not  elocution  that  we  need, 
at  least  not  the  kind  of  elocution  which 
in  past  years  was  given  to  theological 
students  for  the  ministry.  That  was  an 
imprisonment  in  artificial  bonds  which, 
for  the  sake  of  a  galvanized  life,  de- 
stroyed all  sense  of  weight  and  dignity. 
No,  what  we  need,  in  the  first  place,  is  to 
exalt  the  ministry  of  the  lesson  in  public 
worship,  to  set  ourselves  in  reverent  re- 
lationship to  it,  and  then  to  give  all  need- 
ful diligence  to  understanding  it  and  trans- 
ferring our  understanding  to  the  people. 
Let  us  magnify  the  reading  of  the  Word. 
Let  us  defend  it  with  suitable  conditions. 
Let  us  deliver  it  from  all  distractions.  Let 
us  keep  the  doors  closed.  Let  no  late- 
comers be  loitering  about  the  aisles  while 
its  message  is  being  given.  Let  it  be  re- 
ceived in  quietness,  and  it  shall  become 
manifest  that  God's  word  is  still  a  lamp 
unto  men's  feet  and  a  light  unto  their 
paths. 

And  now,  in  pursuit  of  the  one  exalted 
purpose  of  glorifying  God  in  our  pulpit 

[161] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

ministry,  we  shall  give  consecrated  dili- 
gence to  our  common  praise.  Here  again 
we  are  touching  something  which  may  be 
the  abode  of  death  or  a  fountain  of  resur- 
rection-life. And  here  again  we  are  turn- 
ing to  something  to  which  many  of  us  pay 
but  slight  and  indifferent  regard.  And 
once  again  I  am  seeking  to  convey  to  you 
the  urgent  conviction  that  every  item  in 
the  service  carries  its  own  effective  signifi- 
cance, and  that  carelessness  concerning  any 
part  will  inevitably  lower  the  temperature 
of  the  entire  worship.  I  am  perfectly  sure 
that  it  is  with  the  hymns  as  it  is  with  the 
reading  of  the  Scriptures;  our  heedlessness 
is  punished  by  antagonisms  which  make  it 
doubly  difficult  to  reach  our  supreme  end. 
Many  of  the  hymns  we  sing  are  artificial. 
They  are  superficial  and  unreal.  They 
frequently  express  desires  that  no  one 
shares,  and  which  no  healthy,  aspiring  soul 
should  ever  wish  to  share.  Some  of  our 
hymns  are  cloistral,  even  sepulchral,  smell- 
ing of  death,  and  are  far  removed  from  the 
actual  ways  of  intercourse  and  the  throb- 

[162] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  PULPIT 

bing  pulse  of  common  need.  The  senti- 
ment is  often  sickly  and  angemic.  It  has 
no  strength  of  penitence  or  ambition.  It 
is  languid,  and  weakly  dreamy,  more  fitted 
for  an  afternoon  in  Lotus-land  than  for 
pilgrims  who  are  battling  their  way  to 
God.  And  yet  these  hymns  are  indiffer- 
ently chosen,  and  we  use  and  sing  them 
with  a  detachment  of  spirit  which  makes 
our  worship  a  musical  pretence.  The  thing 
is  hollow  and  devoid  of  meaning,  and 
through  the  emptiness  of  this  "  prelimi- 
nary "  we  lead  our  people  to  the  truth  of 
our  message  and  hope  that  it  will  be  re- 
ceived. It  is  a  strangely  unwise  way,  to 
prepare  for  spiritual  receptiveness  by  a 
deadening  formality  which  closes  all  the 
pores  of  the  soul.  Every  artificiality  in 
the  service  is  an  added  barrier  between  the 
soul  and  truth:  every  reality  prepares  the 
soul  for  the  reception  of  the  Lord.  The 
hymn  before  the  sermon  has  often  aggra- 
vated the  preacher's  task. 

There  is  another  matter  which  I  should 
like    to    mention    in    connection    with    our 

[163] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

hymns.  Many  of  the  hymns  are  char- 
acterized by  an  extreme  individualism 
which  may  make  them  unsuitable  for  com- 
mon use  in  public  worship.  I  know  how 
singularly  sweet  and  intimate  may  be  the 
communion  of  the  soul  with  our  Lord.  I 
know  that  no  language  can  express  the 
delicacy  of  the  ties  between  the  Lamb  and 
His  bride.  And  it  is  well  that  the  soul, 
laden  with  the  glorious  burden  of  re- 
deeming grace,  should  be  able  to  sing  its 
secret  confidence  and  pour  out  the  strains 
of  its  personal  troth  to  the  Lord.  "  He 
loved  me,  and  gave  Himself  for  me!^^ 
But  still  I  think  that  these  hymns  of  in- 
tense individualism  should  be  chosen  with 
prayerful  and  scrupulous  care.  Public 
worship  is  not  a  means  of  grace  wherein 
each  may  assert  his  own  individuality  and 
help  himself  from  the  common  feast:  it  is 
a  communion  where  each  may  help  his 
brother  to  "  the  things  which  the  Lord  hath 
prepared  for  them  that  love  Him."  A  con- 
gregation is  not  supposed  to  be  a  crowd  of 
isolated  units,  each  one  intent  upon  a  per- 

[  164^  ] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  PULPIT 

- ~ 

sonal  and  private  quest.  The  ideal  is  not 
that  each  individual  should  hustle  and  bustle 
for  himself,  stretching  out  his  hand  to  touch 
the  hem  of  Christ's  garment,  but  that  each 
should  be  tenderly  solicitous  of  every  other, 
and  particularly  mindful  of  those  with 
"  lame  hands  "  who  are  timid  and  despond- 
ent even  in  the  very  presence  of  the  great 
Physician.  And  so  the  ideal  hymn  in  pub- 
lic worship  is  one  in  which  we  move  to- 
gether as  a  fellowship,  bearing  one  another's 
sins,  sharing  one  another's  conquests, 
"  weeping  with  them  that  weep,  and  re- 
joicing with  them  that  rejoice." 

In  this  wealth  of  widest  sympathy  we 
must  select  our  hymns.  There  must  be  a 
hymn  in  which  the  sorrowful  will  lay  his 
burden,  and  the  joyful  will  help  him  to  lift 
it.  There  must  be  a  hymn  for  those  who 
are  "  valiant  for  the  truth,"  and  the  timid 
and  the  fearful  may  take  courage  while 
they  sing  it.  There  must  be  a  hymn  in 
which  the  newly-made  bride  shall  see  the 
sacred  light  of  her  own  new  day,  and  the 
newly-made  widow  will  catch  the  beams  of 

[165] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

the  eternal  morn.  There  must  be  hymns  in 
which  old  people  and  little  children  can 
meet  together  and  see  the  beauty  of  the 
leaf  that  never  withers,  and  the  glory  of 
the  abiding  spring.  All  this  means  that 
our  hymns  canngt  be  chosen  at  the  last 
moment  if  they  are  to  be  vital  factors  in  a 
living  service.  They  will  have  to  be  dili- 
gently considered,  and  their  content  care- 
fully weighed,  and  we  shall  have  to  esti- 
mate their  possible  influence  upon  the  entire 
worship.  Do  you  not  feel  the  reason- 
ableness of  this,  and  the  importance 
of  it,  if  every  hymn  is  to  be  a  posi- 
tive ministry  in  constraining  the  con- 
gregation to  intimate  fellowship  with 
God? 

But  even  now  I  have  not  done  with  the 
musical  portion  of  our  worship.  I  want 
to  urge  you  to  cultivate  friendship  and 
most  intimate  communion  with  your  organ- 
ist. Enlist  his  spirit  in  j^our  own  exalted 
purpose.  Make  him  realize,  by  the  fellow- 
ship of  your  deepest  desires,  that  he  is  a 
fellow-labourer    in    the    salvation    of    men 

[166] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  PULPIT 

to  the  glory  of  God.  Let  the  music  be 
redeemed  from  being  a  human  entertain- 
ment, and  let  it  become  a  divine  revelation. 
Let  it  never  be  an  end  in  itself  but  a 
means  of  grace,  something  to  be  forgotten 
in  the  dawning  of  something  grander. 
Let  it  never  be  regarded  as  an  exhibition 
of  human  cleverness  but  rather  as  a  trans- 
mitter of  spiritual  blessings:  never  a 
terminus,  but  always  a  thoroughfare.  And 
therefore  take  counsel  with  your  organist. 
Tell  him  what  you  want  to  do  next  Sun- 
day. Do  not  be  shy  about  leading  the 
conversation  into  the  deeper  things.  Do 
not  keep  him  in  the  outer  courts:  take 
him  into  the  secret  place.  Tell  him  your 
purpose  in  reference  to  each  particular 
hymn,  and  what  influence  you  hope  it  will 
have  upon  the  people.  Tell  him  what  you 
are  going  to  preach  about,  and  lead  him 
into  the  very  central  road  of  your  own 
desires.  Tell  him  you  are  going  in  quest 
of  the  prodigal,  or  to  comfort  the  mourner, 
or  to  rouse  the  careless,  or  to  encourage  the 
faint.      Tell   him   what   part   of   the   vast 

[167] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

realm  of  "  the  unsearchable  riches "  you 
will  seek  to  unveil  to  your  people,  and  let 
his  eyes  be  filled  with  the  glory  which  is 
holding  yours.  Take  counsel  as  to  how 
he  can  co-operate  with  you,  and  let  there 
be  two  men  on  the  same  great  errand.  Let 
him  consider  what  kind  of  organ  volun- 
taries will  best  minister  to  your  common 
purpose  and  prepare  the  hearts  of  the 
people  for  the  vision  of  God.  Let  a  tune 
be  chosen  from  the  standpoint  of  what  will 
best  disclose  the  secret  wealth  of  a  hymn 
and  open  the  soul  to  its  reception.  Never 
let  the  anthem  be  an  "  unchartered  liber- 
tine," playing  its  own  pranks  irrespective 
of  the  rest  of  the  service, — at  the  best  an 
interlude,  at  the  worst  an  intolerable  in- 
terruption and  antagonism — but  let  the 
anthem  be  leagued  to  the  dominant  pur- 
pose, urging  the  soul  in  the  one  direction, 
and  preparing  "  the  way  of  the  Lord." 
In  all  these  simple  suggestions  I  am  offer- 
ing you  counsel  of  incalculable  worth.  A 
preacher  and  his  organist,  profoundly  one 
in  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  have  in- 

[168] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  PULPIT 

conceivable  strength  in  the  ministry  of 
redemption. 

And  indeed  what  I  have  said  about 
the  organist  I  would  say  concerning  every- 
body who  has  any  office  in  the  service  of 
the  sanctuary.  Let  it  be  your  ambition 
to  make  them  co-operate  in  the  purpose 
that  possesses  you.  Your  pulpit  ministry 
is  helped  or  hindered  by  everybody  who 
has  to  deal  with  your  congregation,  even  to 
the  "  doorkeeper  in  the  house  of  the  Lord." 
And,  therefore,  let  your  ushers  know  that 
they  may  be  your  fellow-labourers,  not 
merely  showing  people  to  their  seats,  but 
by  the  spirit  and  manner  of  their  service 
helping  them  near  to  God.  Let  every 
one  of  your  helpers  be  on  the  inside 
of  things,  and  in  their  very  service 
worshipping  God  "  in  spirit  and  in 
truth." 

Gentlemen,  there  is  nothing  petty  or 
priggish  in  all  this.  A  prig  is  a  man  who 
has  never  seen  or  has  lost  the  august,  and 
who  is,  therefore,  swallowed  up  in  his 
own  conceit.     I  am  seeking  to   depict  a 

[169] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

preacher  who  lives  in  the  vision  of  the 
august,  and  who  desires  to  lift  into  its 
splendour  even  the  obscurest  ministry  of 
the  sanctuary.  There  are  portions  of  our 
services  that  are  vagrant,  unharnessed  to 
the  central  purpose,  and  I  want  to  re- 
cover their  power  to  the  direct  mission  of 
the  salvation  of  men, — and  it  can  only  be 
done  when  the  minister  takes  his  fellow- 
workers  into  his  counsels,  and  makes  them 
at  home  in  the  secret  desires  of  his  own 
soul.  We  must  cease  to  regard  the  sermon 
as  the  isolated  sovereign  of  the  serv- 
ice, and  all  other  exercises  as  a  retinue 
of  subordinates.  We  must  regard 
everything  as  of  vital  and  sacred  im- 
portance, and  everything  must  enter 
the  sanctuary  clothed  in  strength  and 
beauty. 

And  so  with  these  mighty  allies  of 
prayer,  and  Scripture,  and  music,  all  puls- 
ing with  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
we  shall  give  to  a  prepared  people  the 
message  of  the  sermon.  There  are  some 
questions  about  the  sermon  on  which  I  am 

[170] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  PULPIT 

comparatively  indifferent.  Whether  it 
shall  be  preached  from  a  full  manuscript 
or  from  notes,  whether  it  shall  be  read,  or 
delivered  with  greater  detachment;  these 
questions  do  not  much  concern  me.  Either 
method  may  be  alive  and  effective  if  there 
be  behind  it  a  "  live  "  man,  real  and  glow- 
ing, fired  with  the  passion  of  souls.  Our 
people  must  realize  that  we  are  bent  on 
serious  business,  that  there  is  a  deep,  keen 
quest  in  our  preaching,  a  sleepless  and  a 
deathless  quest.  They  must  feel  in  the  ser- 
mon the  presence  of  "  the  hound  of 
heaven,"  tracking  the  soul  in  its  most 
secret  ways,  following  it  in  the  minis- 
try of  salvation,  to  win  it  from  death 
to  life,  from  life  to  more  abundant 
life,  "  from  grace  to  grace,"  "  from 
strength  to  strength,"  "  from  glory  to 
glory." 

And  in  all  our  preaching  we  must  preach 
for  verdicts.  We  must  present  our  case, 
we  must  seek  a  verdict,  and  we  must  ask 
for  immediate  execution  of  the  verdict. 
We  are  not  in  the  pulpit  to   please  the 

[171] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

fancy.  We  are  not  there  even  to  inform 
the  mind,  or  to  disturb  the  emotions,  or  to 
sway  the  judgment.  These  are  only  pre- 
paratives along  the  journey.  Our  ulti- 
mate object  is  to  move  the  will,  to  set  it  in 
another  course,  to  increase  its  pace,  and 
to  make  it  sing  in  "  the  ways  of  God's 
commandments."  Yes,  we  are  there  to 
bring  the  wills  of  men  into  tune  with  the 
will  of  God,  in  order  that  God's  statutes 
may  become  their  songs.  It  is  a  blessed 
calling,  frowning  with  difficulty,  beset  with 
disappointments,  but  its  real  rewards  are 
"  sweeter  than  honey  and  the  honeycomb." 
There  is  no  joy  on  earth  comparable  to  his 
who  has  gone  out  with  the  great  Shepherd, 
striding  over  the  exposed  mountain,  and 
through  deep  valleys  of  dark  shadow, 
seeking  His  sheep  that  was  lost;  no  joy,  I 
say,  comparable  to  his  when  the  sheep  is 
found,  and  the  Shepherd  lays  it  on  His 
shoulder  rejoicing,  and  carries  it  home  to 
the  fold.  "  Rejoice  with  Me,  for  I  have 
found  My  sheep  which  was  lost!"  And 
every  one  who  has  shared  in  the  toil  of  the 

[172] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  HIS  PULPIT 

seeking  shall  also  share  in  the  joy  of  the 
finding — "  Partaker  of  the  sufferings  "  he 
shall  also  be  "  partaker  of  the  glory."  He 
shall  assuredly  "  enter  into  the  joy "  of 
his  Lord. 


[173] 


THE   PREACHER  IN   THE   HOME 

''From  house  to  house ^* 


LECTURE        .SIX 


THE  PREACHER  IN  THE  HOME 

"  From  house  to  house  '* 

In  our  previous  lectures  we  have  been 
considering  the  preacher's  calhng,  the 
glory  of  his  themes,  the  studious  prepara- 
tion of  his  message,  and  the  presentation 
of  the  message  in  the  sanctuary  amid  con- 
ditions which  have  been  ordered  and  fash- 
ioned to  be  allies  of  the  truth.  And  now 
we  are  to  consider  the  preacher's  calling 
when  he  leaves  the  public  sanctuary  and 
enters  the  private  home.  There  is  a 
change  of  sphere  but  no  change  of  mission. 
The  line  of  purpose  continues  unbroken. 
He  is  still  a  messenger,  carrying  good 
news;  he  is  still  an  ambassador,  bearing 
the  decrees  of  the  eternal  God.  His 
audience  is  smaller,  his  business  is  the 
same. 

Now  the  difficulty  of  delivering  a  mes- 
sage is  in  inverse  proportion  to  the  size  of 
the   audience.      The   greater   the   audience 

[  177  ] 


u.~^*..«y«>ira,^  *£«.  ^.^JtKt&A  M> 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

the  easier  the  task:  with  a  diminished  audi- 
ence our  difficulties  are  increased.  I  know 
that  a  crowd  brings  its  perils,  and  they  are 
very  subtle,  and  we  are  not  always  doing 
our  strongest  work  when  we  are  least  con- 
scious of  the  dangers.  Crowds  may  add 
to  our  comfort  but  they  do  not  necessarily 
add  to  our  spiritual  triumphs.  We  may 
be  least  effective  when  we  feel  our  work 
to  be  easiest,  and  we  may  be  in  the  most 
deadly  grips  with  things  when  we  have 
difficulties  and  reluctances  on  every  side. 
Now,  I  think  that  the  common  experience 
is  this,  that  the  difficulties  of  the  messenger 
become  multiplied  as  his  hearers  become 
few.  It  is  a  harder  thing  to  speak  about 
our  Lord  to  a  family  than  to  a  congre- 
gation, and  it  is  harder  still  to  single  out 
one  of  the  family  and  give  the  message  to 
him.  To  face  the  individual  soul  with  the 
word  of  God,  to  bring  to  him  the  mind  of 
the  Master,  whether  in  counsel  or  encour- 
agement, in  reproof  or  comfort,  is  one  of 
the  heaviest  commissions  given  to  our 
charge.     Where   there   are   ten   men   who 

[173] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  THE  HOME 

can  face  a  crowd  there  is  only  one  who  can 
face  the  individual.  What  is  the  explana- 
tion of  it? 

Well,  in  the  first  place,  the  fear  of  a 
man  is  a  much  more  subtle  thing  than  the 
fear  of  men.  The  fear  of  a  man  bring- 
eth  a  most  insidious  snare,  and  too  often 
the  fear  is  created  by  the  mere  accidents 
of  circumstance  and  not  by  any  essential 
gifts  of  character.  We  are  intimidated  by 
the  ofnce  rather  than  by  the  officer:  by  a 
man's  talents  rather  than  by  his  disposition : 
by  his  wealth  rather  than  by  his  person- 
alit3^  Nay,  our  timidity  sometimes  arises 
from  the  splendour  of  a  man's  house  rather 
than  from  any  splendour  in  the  tenant. 
And  from  all  this  kind  of  fear  the  preacher 
is  not  exempt.  The  snare  is  ever  about 
him,  and  he  may  measure  his  growth  in 
grace  by  the  strength  with  which  he  meets 
the  snare  and  overcomes  it.  It  was  a  noble 
type  of  courage  which  inspired  Paul  to 
"  fight  with  beasts  at  Ephesus  " :  it  was  a 
nobler  courage  with  v/hich  he  confronted 
the  Apostle  Peter,  reputed  to  be  "a  pillar 

[179] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

of  the  Church,"  and  "  withstood  him  to  the 
face  because  he  stood  condemned." 

I  confess  that  this  part  of  our  commis- 
sion, the  carrying  of  the  message  to  the 
individual,  was  the  greatest  burden  of  my 
early  ministry.  Of  course  it  is  perfectly 
natural  that  in  our  earliest  ministry  this 
burden  should  be  the  heaviest.  There  is 
our  lack  of  experience,  there  is  the  timidity 
of  untried  powers,  there  is  the  deference 
we  pay  to  years, — all  these  tend  to  make 
us  fearful  and  reserved,  and  disinclined  to 
speak  to  individuals  of  their  personal  rela- 
tionship to  the  Lord.  A  sermon  is  easier 
than  a  conversation.  And  yet  from  the 
very  beginning  of  our  ministry  this  obliga- 
tion is  laid  upon  us,  and  we  cannot  neglect 
it  without  imperilling  the  health  and  wel- 
fare of  immortal  souls.  And  how  we 
shrink  from  it!  I  vividly  remember  the 
first  battle-royal  I  had  with  the  temptation 
soon  after  my  ministry  began.  I  heard  on 
excellent  authority  that  one  of  my  people 
was  "  giving  way  to  drink."  He  was  a 
man  of  some  standing  in  the  church,  and 

[180] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  THE  HOME 


he  was  possessed  of  considerable  wealth.  I 
had  already  preached  more  than  one  tem- 
perance sermon,  but  these  had  been  gen- 
eral messages  addressed  to  a  congrega- 
tion. I  was  now  ordered  by  the  Master  to 
carry  the  message  to  an  individual,  and  to 
tactfully  withstand  him  to  his  face,  be- 
cause he  stood  condemned!  How  I  wrig- 
gled under  the  commission!  How  I  shrank 
from  it!  How  I  dallied  with  it!  And 
even  w^hen  I  had  fought  my  way  almost 
to  his  door,  I  lingered  in  the  street  in 
further  faithless  loitering.  But  at  length 
courage  conquered  fear,  I  faced  my  man, 
tremblingly  gave  him  my  message,  and  by 
the  grace  of  God  he  heard  the  voice  of 
God  and  was  saved  from  a  horrible  pit 
and  the  miry  clay.  Gentlemen,  it  seemed 
as  though  I  could  preach  a  sermon  and 
never  meet  a  devil:  but  as  soon  as  I  began 
to  take  my  sermon  to  the  individual  the 
streets  were  thick  with  devils,  and  I  had 
to  be  like  the  armed  man  in  "  The  Pil- 
grim's Progress  "  who,  "  after  he  had  re- 
ceived  and  given  many   wounds   to   those 

[181] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 


that  attempted  to  keep  him  out,  cut  his 
way  through  them  all,  and  pressed  for- 
ward into  the  palace."  But  I  will  say 
again,  "  the  fear  of  man  bringeth  a  snare." 
But  there  is  perhaps  a  second  reason 
why  we  shrink  from  these  individual  com- 
missions. There  is  a  certain  secularity 
which  is  often  embedded  in  our  characters 
and  which  makes  us  half-ashamed  to  "  talk 
i religion"  in  private.  The  "wares"  seem 
out  of  place.  We  can  "  talk  "  politics,  or 
♦  business,  or  sport,  but  religion  seems  an  in- 
trusion which  will  certainly  be  resented. 
Men  can  scent  "  the  garments  of  myrrh  " 
afar  off,  and  turn  away  as  they  approach. 
And  the  secularity  in  our  souls  takes  sides 
with  this  aversion,  and  we  are  snared  into 
sinful  silence,  and  our  solemn  charge  is 
unfulfilled.  And  thus  the  spirit  of  the 
world  makes  its  home  in  our  souls  and 
defines  the  limits  of  our  commission.  The 
Lord  issues  the  decree,  but  worldliness  is 
permitted  to  appoint  its  bounds. 

And  I  will  mention  a  third  reason  why 
the  individual  ministry  is  beset  by  so  much 

[  18.2  ] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  THE  HOME 


reluctance  and  timidity.  There  is  a  certain 
shyness  which  makes  us  shrink  from  any 
assumption  of  moral  and  spiritual  supe- 
riority. When  we  minister  in  the  pulpit, 
and  proclaim  the  exacting  commandments 
of  the  Lord,  we  may  regard  the  proclama- 
tion as  the  utterance  of  a  voice  not  our 
own,  and  we  may  place  ourselves  among 
the  struggling,  stumbling  congregation, 
which  is  listening  to  decrees  from  the  great 
white  throne.  We  can  preach  to  a  crowd 
and  yet  number  ourselves  in  its  faltering 
ranks.  But  when  we  go  to  the  individual,  to 
minister  in  the  things  of  the  higher  life,  we 
go  not  merely  as  a  voice  but  as  an  incarna- 
tion. We  cannot  hide  from  ourselves  that  we 
go  not  only  with  the  strength  of  a  message 
but  in  the  assumption  of  an  attainment. 
And  sometimes  we  shrink  from  it,  lest  the 
assumption  should  appear  presumption, 
and  lest  we  should  seem  tainted  with  Phari- 
saic pride  and  profession.  That  is  an  ex- 
ceedingly subtle  temptation.  It  is  born 
amid  the  delicate  reserves  and  reticences  of 
true  humility,  but  it  may  be  perverted  into 

[183] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

.  the  faithlessness  of  unlawful  shame.  It  is 
one  thing  to  be  humble  about  our  spiritual 
attainments,  it  is  quite  another  thing  to  be 
betrayed  into  acting  as  though  we  had  no 
tokens  of  heavenly  favour,  and  no  riches 
from  the  treasury  of  grace.  There  is  a 
a  false  modesty  which  makes  us  disloyal: 
there  is  a  true  humility  w^hich  constrains  us 
to  make  our  boast  in  the  Lord.  The  one 
may  make  us  silent  about  ourselves,  the 
other  will  make  us  silent  about  the  Lord. 
There  may  be  other  explanations,  besides 
those  which  I  have  named,  why  many  of 
us  are  so  indisposed  to  religious  dealings 
with  the  individual  man.  But  whatever 
the  radical  explanation  may  be,  there  is 
the  fact :  we  fear  the  individual  more  than 
we  fear  the  crowd.  Multitudes  of  minis- 
ters can  fish  with  a  net  who  are  very 
reluctant  to  fish  with  a  line.  But  it  is  as 
clearly  a  part  of  our  commission  to  go  out 
after  "  the  one "  as  to  minister  to  "  the 
ninety-and-nine " :  and  therefore  we  are 
called  upon  to  master  our  reluctance  and 
our  timidities,  and  with  steady  loyalty  to 

[184] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  THE  HOME 


carry  our  ministry  from  the  pulpit  into  the 
liome,  and  from  the  great  assembly  to  the 
individual  soul. 

Now  I  want  to  frankly  confess  my  own 
conviction  that  in  this  attempted  ministry 
to  the  home  there  is  a  pathetic  waste  of 
precious  time.  I  have  no  confidence  what- 
ever in  the  ministry  which  calculates  its 
afternoon's  work  by  the  number  of  door- 
bells it  has  rung,  and  the  number  of  streets 
it  has  covered,  and  the  number  of  sup- 
posed "  calls "  that  can  be  registered  in 
the  pastoral  books.  I  attach  little  value 
to  the  breathless  knocking  at  a  door,  the 
restless,  "  How  do  you  do?  "  and  the  per- 
spiring departure  to  another  door  where  a 
similar  hasty  errand  is  effected.  I  attach 
even  less  value  to  a  sharp,  short  series  of 
afternoon  gossipings  which  only  skim  the 
surfaces  of  things,  and  which  never  come 
within  sight  of  those  stupendous  heights 
and  depths  that  matter  everything  to  im- 
mortal souls.  "  Wandering  about  from 
house  to  house  .  .  .  tattlers  also  and  busy- 
bodies,  speaking  things  which  they  ought 

[185] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

not."  I  say  that  this  kind  of  ministry, 
burdensome  and  tiring  as  it  certainly  is, 
is  effeminate  work,  and  it  is  a  tragic  waste 
of  a  strong  man's  time.  But  here  again,* 
a  clear  and  well-defined  purpose,  large, 
luminous,  sacred,  and  sanctifying,  will  be 
our  sure  defence  against  puerilities  and 
against  all  sinful  trifling  with  time  and 
strength.  Ever  and  everywhere,  in  the 
pulpit  and  out  of  it,  amid  a  crowd,  with 
a  few,  or  holding  fellowship  with  the 
individual,  the  true  minister  will  guide  him- 
self with  the  self -arresting  challenge: — 
"What  am  I  after?"  and  he  will  con- 
tinually refresh  his  vision  and  ambition  by 
the  contemplation  of  the  apostolic  aim: — 
"  To  present  every  man  perfect  in  Christ 
Jesus." 

There  is  no  need  that  a  minister  be 
pietistic  just  because  he  unceasingly  cher- 
ishes a  glorious  end.  Nay,  the  pious  j)rig 
will  be  absolutely  impossible  where  a  man 
seeks  to  live  in  the  glory  of  his  "  high  call- 
ing in  Christ  Jesus."  A  lofty  purpose 
can  minister   through   lighter   moods.      It 

[186] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  THE  HOME 

can  consecrate  church-bells  and  ring  out  a 
merry  peal,  as  well  as  fire-bells  and  ring 
out  its  loud  alarm.  It  can  seek  its  serious 
ends  through  laughter  as  well  as  through 
tears.  Its  quest  of  the  Holy  Grail  runs 
through  many  a  bright  and  jocund  day. 
It  can  use  the  ministries  of  wit  and  humour 
and  yet  never  lose  sight  of  its  end.  How 
true  all  this  was  of  Spurgeon!  He  could 
fish  in  the  sunniest  seas!  His  geniality  was 
ever  the  companion  of  his  piety,  and  his 
smile  was  never  far  awa}^  from  his  tears. 
He  followed  a  great  purpose,  and  a  big 
retinue  of  powers  moved  in  his  train.  They 
moved  with  him  in  private  as  well  as  in 
public,  when  he  communed  with  the  in- 
dividual and  when  he  ministered  to  the 
crowd.  And  equally  true  was  all  this  of 
Moody.  He  was  a  child  of  light,  lumi- 
nously human  in  the  service  of  the  divine, 
all  the  more  human  because  he  increasingly 
sought  the  glory  of  God.  He  moved  and 
won  men  by  his  naturalness.  He  could 
throw  his  line  through  wit  and  humour, 
but  in  the  central  heart  of  all  his  merri- 

[187] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

merit  there  was  a  holy  place  where  nothing 
dwelt  that  was  common  or  unclean.  And 
so,  I  say,  a  minister  need  not  be  a  Stiggins 
— a  melancholy  Stiggins  because  his  life 
is  possessed  of  a  lofty  and  serious  end. 
On  the  other  hand,  let  his  life  lose  its 
holy  and  well-defined  purpose,  and  there 
is  no  man  who  will  so  surely  drivel  into 
effeminacies,  into  idle  puerilities,  into 
empty  gossipings,  into  petty  conventions 
devoid  of  spiritual  significance, — with  the 
added  tragedy  that  he  may  come  to  be 
satisfied  with  his  barren  lot. 

When,  then,  we  leave  our  pulpit,  and  on 
the  one  sacred  quest  seek  communion  with 
the  individual,  what  can  we  do  for  him? 
First  of  all,  we  can  bring  to  a  man  the 
ministry  of  sympathetic  listening.  You 
will  find  that  sometimes  this  is  all  that  a 
man  requires,  a  sympathetic  audience.  It 
is  not  that  he  needs  your  speech:  he  needs 
your  ears.  "  When  I  kept  silence  my 
bones  waxed  old."  Unshared  troubles 
bring  on  premature  age. "  The  trouble  we 
can  talk  about  loses  some  of  its  weight. » 

[188] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  THE  HOME 


An  audience  brings  to  many  people  a  sim- 
plification of  their  grief.  A  strange  light 
often  breaks  upon  us  when  we  are  un- 
folding our  troubles  to  another.  'When 
we  begin  to  explain  our  difficulties  we  often 
explain  them  away. '  The  problem  is  un- 
ravelled even  while  it  is  being  described.' 
You  will  find  that  this  principle  operates 
in  the  pulpit.  While  you  are  attempting 
to  expound  the  truth  to  others  you  wall 
see  it  yourself  in  clearer  light.  Things 
become  luminous  while  they  are  being 
shared.  They  become  transparent  in  fel- 
lowship. Our  audience  enriches  our 
possessions.  Now  many  people  lack  the 
audience  and  therefore  they  never  come 
to  their  own.  And  we  provide  them  with 
an  audience,  and  our  ministry  to  the  in- 
dividual is  frequently  just  this  provision 
of  fellowship,  the  offer  of  an  opportunity 
through  which  a  soul  can  "  speak "  its 
way  into  light  and  liberty. 
"  Think  how  many  haunting  fears  vanish 
aw^ay  when  we  try  to  put  them  into  words! 
Their     strength     is     in     their     vagueness. 

[189] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

They  are  terrible  because  they  are  ill- 
defined.  They  are  often  banished  by  ex- 
pression. We  seek  to  put  them  into 
expression  and  they  are  gone!  A  fear  thus 
shared  is  very  frequently  a  fear  destroyed. 
How  often  I  have  had  that  experience  in 
my  ministry!  I  have  sat  and  listened  to 
men  and  women  as  they  have  poured  out 
the  story  of  their  griefs  and  fears.  Scarcely 
a  word  has  passed  my  lips.  I  seemed  to 
be  doing  nothing,  but  it  may  be  that  in 
such  ministries  more  sacred  energies  are 
at  work  than  we  have  conceived.  Who 
knows  what  mystic  powers  are  operative 
when  two  souls  are  in  sympathetic  relation, 
and  one  is  apparently  passively  listening 
to  the  tale  of  the  other's  woes?  At  any 
rate  I  have  often  been  the  silent  partner 
in  such  fellowship,  and  often  when  I  have 
come  away  the  afflicted  soul  has  said  to  me, 
"  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  you  have 
helped  me":  and  I  could  see  that  by  the 
mysterious  workings  of  God's  grace  the 
yoke  had  been  made  easy  and  the  burden 
hght. 

[190] 


THE  pr:EAcni:R  in  the  home 


And  so  the  minister  provides  the  in-  / 
dividual  with  an  audience,  but  not  only 
for  the  expression  of  trouble,  and  diffi- 
culty, and  fear,  but  also  for  the  trans- 
figuration and  enrichment  of  his  joy.  For 
joy  that  is  never  shared  is  never  fully 
matured.  A  joy  that  tells  its  story  is  like 
some  imprisoned  bird  that  has  found  the 
sunny  air  of  larger  spaces.  It  is  strength- 
ened and  vitalized,  and  it  discovers  new 
powers  of  rapture  and  song.  Here  again 
the  audience  enriches  the  songster  by  giv- 
ing him  occasion  to  sing.  There  are  peo- 
ple v/ho  are  laden  with  providential  ex- 
periences, and  they  would  become  all  the 
wealthier  if  they  told  their  own  simple 
story  of  grace.  "  This  poor  man  cried, 
and  the  Lord  heard  him,  and  saved  him 
out  of  all  his  troubles,"  but  he  would  be 
all  the  richer  just  to  tell  his  minister  this 
chapter  in  the  Lord's  dealings  with  his 
soul.  We  strengthen  a  man's  faith  when^ 
w^e  give  him  opportunity  of  confession:  we 
enrich  his  joy  when  we  listen  to  his  song 
in  the  Lord. 

[191] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

But  there  is  another  side  to  this  individ- 
ual ministry.  We  are  called  upon  by  our 
God  to  bring  to  men  not  merely  the 
strengthening  grace  of  sympathetic  listen- 
ing, but  also  the  strengthening  grace  of 
sympathetic  speech.  What  can  we  say  to 
a  man  when  we  meet  him  face  to  face? 
Our  God  will  inspire  the  counsel  if  we 
will  cherish  and  seek  His  glory.  He  will 
appoint  the  means  if  we  will  revere  His 
ends.  If  I  will  follow  "  the  light  "  upon 
my  path  He  will  "  keep  my  feet."  It 
is  in  ministries  to  the  individual  soul  that 
the  promise  of  our  Lord  has  rich  and 
immediate  fulfilment: — "  It  shall  be  given 
you  in  that  same  hour  what  ye  shall  speak." 
Our  discernments  shall  be  made  sensitive, 
our  affections  shall  be  kept  sympathetic, 
our  judgments  shall  be  enlightened,  and 
our  words  shall  be  as  keys  that  fit  the 
locks,  and  the  "  iron  gate  "  in  men's  souls 
shall  be  opened.  We  need  not  trouble 
about  the  details  of  our  approach  to  the 
individual  if  only  our  controlling  purpose 
is  clean  and  lofty. 

[192] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  THE  HOME 


What,  then,  shall  be  our  sovereign  pur- 
pose in  moving  among  men  in  common 
affairs?  It  will  surely  be  to  relate  the 
common  to  the  divine,  and  to  bring  the 
vision  of  the  sanctuary  into  the  street  and 
the  market  and  the  home.  We  are  to  go 
among  men  helping  them  to  see  the  halo 
on  the  commonplace,  to  discern  the  sacred 
fire  in  the  familiar  bush.  In  the  sanctuary 
men  are  frequently  conscious  of  the  stir- 
rings of  a  heavenly  air,  but  they  lose  its 
inspirations  in  the  streets.  In  the  sanc- 
tuary they  often  catch  the  gleam  of  the 
ideal,  and  they  often  feel  the  Sacred 
Presence  of  the  Lord  in  the  ways  of  public 
prayer  and  praise,  but  the  gleam  fades 
away  when  they  touch  their  daily  work, 
and  the  Sacred  Presence  is  lost  in  the 
crowded  roads  of  business.  It  must  be 
our  ministry  to  help  them  to  recover  their 
lost  inheritance,  and  to  retain  the  sense 
of  heavenly  fellowship  while  they  earn 
their  daily  bread.  We  do  a  mighty  work 
when  we  keep  a  man's  sense  of  God  alive 
amid   all   the   hardening   benumbments   of 


[193] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

the  world.  Sometimes  a  word  will  do  it: 
sometimes  even  the  word  is  not  required. 
Ian  Maclaren  said  that  when  Henry 
Drummond  entered  a  room  it  seemed  as 
though  the  temperature  was  changed. 
Everything  looked  and  felt  different,  the 
medium  of  intercourse  was  brightened  and 
clarified.  Men's  spiritual  senses  get  jaded, 
they  lose  their  fine  perceptions,  the  setting 
of  life  becomes  common  and  profane,  and 
it  may  be  our  gracious  ministry,  by  the 
vigour  of  our  fellowship,  altogether  apart 
from  actual  speech,  to  "  refresh  "  them,  and 
to  restore  to  them  the  lost  sanctities.  It 
may  be  we  shall  find  some  business-man 
living  as  though  life  were  only  a  dreary 
and  monotonous  plain,  and  we  may  leave 
him  "  refreshed,"  having  recovered  the 
vision  of  "  the  hills  of  God."  But  it  will 
also  be  our  mission  to  recover  the  divine 
light,  not  only  as  it  rests  upon  common 
labour,  but  as  it  rests  upon  the  ordinary 
sorrows  which  so  often  appear  sombre  and 
hostile.  That  is  a  very  beautiful  ministry, 
one  of  the  most  gracious  privileges  com- 

[194] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  THE  HOME 


mitted  to  our  hands.  We  are  to  go  where 
the  cloud  is  low,  and  black,  and  frowning, 
and  we  are  to  reveal  its  silver  lining.  We 
are  to  find  "  springs  in  the  desert."  We 
are  to  find  flowers  of  divine  mercy,  forget- 
me-nots  of  heavenly  grace,  growing  in  the 
heaviest  and  ruttiest  roads.  We  are  to  go^^ 
into  homes  where  sorrow  reigns,  and  it  is 
to  be  our  tender  ministry  to  show  that' 
Jesus  reigns.  We  are  to  find  "  the  Church 
in  the  wilderness."  You  will  esteem  this 
a  very  precious  privilege,  and  you  will 
esteem  it  more  and  more  as  the  years 
pass  by.  You  will  lie  down  to  sweet  sleep 
on  the  days  when  you  have  lightened  the 
path  of  the  sorrowful,  when  you  have 
shown  the  divine  gleam  resting  upon  the 
clod,  and  when  the  timid,  riven  heart  has 
been  quieted  in  the  assurance  that  God  is 
near. 

I  once  called  upon  a  cobbler  whose 
home  was  in  a  little  seaside  town  in  the 
North  of  England.  He  worked  alone  in 
an  exceedingly  tiny  room.  I  asked  him 
if  he  did  not  sometimes  feel  oppressed  by 

[195] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

the  imprisonment  of  his  little  chamber. 
"  Oh,  no,"  he  replied,  "  if  any  feelings  of 
that  sort  begin  I  just  open  this  door!" 
And  he  opened  a  door  leading  into  another 
room,  and  it  gave  him  a  glorious  view  of 
the  sea!  The  little  room  was  glorified  in 
its  vast  relations.  To  the  cobbler's  bench 
there  came  the  suggestion  of  the  infinite. 
And  really,  gentlemen,  I  think  this  ex- 
presses my  conception  of  our  ministry  as 
we  encounter  men  and  women  in  their 
daily  lot.  We  are  to  open  that  door  and 
let  in  the  inspiration  of  the  Infinite!  We 
.are  to  go  about  skilfully  relating  every- 
thing to  God: — the  lowliest  toil,  the  most 
unwelcome  duty,  the  task  that  bristles  with 
difficulty,  the  grey  disappointment,  the 
black  sorrow, — we  are  to  open  the  door, 
and  let  in  upon  them  the  light  of  the  in- 
finite purpose  and  the  warm  inspirations 
of  eternal  love.  It  may  be  that  some- 
times the  opening  of  that  door  may  startle 
and  frighten  a  man  rather  than  soothe 
and  comfort  him.  It  may  be  that  he  is 
deliberately  keeping  it  closed,  and  in  sinful 

[196] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  THE  HOME 

comfort  he  is  living  unmindful  of  God. 
Well,  then,  we  must  not  shirk  our  duty. 
We  must  gently  but  firmly  open  the  door 
even  though  the  light  should  strike  like 
lightning,  and  the  man  is  filled  with  pres- 
ent resentment.  The  resentment  will  pass, 
it  will  most  probably  change  into  grati- 
tude, and  in  the  recovered  vision  of  God 
the  man  will  recover  himself  and  all  the 
riches  and  powers  of  his  lost  estate.  For 
thus  saith  the  Lord,  "Son  of  Man,  I 
have  made  thee  a  watchman  unto  the  house 
of  Israel:  therefore  hear  the  word  at  my 
mouth,  and  give  them  warning  from  me. 
When  I  say  unto  the  wicked,  Thou  shalt 
surely  die:  and  thou  givest  him  not  warn- 
ing, nor  speakest  to  warn  the  wicked  from 
his  wicked  way,  to  save  his  life:  the  same 
wicked  man  shall  die  in  his  iniquity:  but 
his  blood  will  I  require  at  thine  hand.  Yet 
if  thou  warn  the  wicked,  and  he  turn  not 
from  his  wickedness,  nor  from  his  wicked 
way,  he  shall  die  in  his  iniquity:  but  thou 
hast  delivered  thy  soul." 

Now  let  no  one  think  that  this  ministry 

[197] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 


to  the  individual  is  on  our  part  an  unmixed 
expenditure,  attended  by  no  corresponding 
returns.  The  personal  recompense  in 
such  labour  is  abundant.  In  the  first 
place  we  discover  how  strangely  many  are 
the  varieties  of  human  experience.  The 
kaleidoscope  of  circumstances  takes  shapes 
and  fashions  of  which  we  ourselves  have 
never  dreamed.  And  we  shall  find  that 
the  changed  assortment  of  circumstances 
varies  the  conditions  of  warfare,  and  that, 
while  the  general  campaign  of  life  for  all 
of  us  may  be  one  and  the  same,  the  in- 
dividual battles  are  never  alike.  Every 
life  has  its  own  peculiar  field,  and  we  shall 
discover  conditions  of  warfare  which  we 
have  never  shared.  And  then,  in  the 
second  place,  through  this  variety  and 
multiplicity  of  human  needs  we  shall  more 
gloriously  apprehend  the  fulness  and 
glory  *of  our  resources  in  grace.  We  are 
very  tempted  to  interpret  our  own  in- 
dividuality as  the  common  type,  and  to 
express  our  message  through  the  medium 
of  our  own  peculiar  circumstances.     It  is 

[198] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  THE  HOME 


a  minister's  life  that  we  see,  and  a  min- 
ister's perils,  and  a  minister's  conflicts,  and 
these  are  too  often  the  settings  of  our  ser- 
mons, and  other  men  feel  that  they  are 
living  in  another  and  alien  world,  and  our 
counsels  and  warnings  seem  irrelevant. 
The  ministry  to  the  individual  discovers 
the  individuality  of  others,  life  breaks  up 
into  lives,  each  of  its  own  fashion,  and  as 
we  bring  the  common  grace  to  the  mani- 
fold needs  our  conception  of  grace  is 
immeasurably  glorified,  "  the  same  Lord 
over  all  being  rich  unto  all  that  call  upon 
Him." 

Now,  for  this  ministry  to  the  individual 
mere  book  knowledge  is  of  little  or  no 
service.  Our  knowledge  must  be  personal, 
experimental,  practical,  and  immediate. 
We  need  an  experimental  knowledge  of 
God.  There  must  be  something  solid  and 
satisfying.  We  must  know  something , 
something  about  which  we  can  be  dogmatic, 
and  about  which  we  can  speak  in  words 
and  tones  of  assurance.  "I  know":  "I 
have    felt":    "I    have    seen":    "I    know 

[199] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

whom  I  have  believed  and  am  persuaded  " : 
— This  must  be  the  firm  and  confirming 
assurance  which  fills  our  confession  of  the 
grace  and  love  of  God.  And  to  an  experi- 
mental knowledge  of  God  must  be  added 
an  experimental  knowledge  of  the  King's 
highway.  If  Greatheart  is  to  guide  the 
pilgrims  from  the  City  of  Destruction  to 
the  Celestial  City  he  must  know  the  road, 
and  he  must  be  keen  to  recognize  the 
inviting  and  perilous  by-paths  which  are 
only  flower-decked  waj^s  to  destruction. 
And  for  all  this  we  need  an  intelligent  and 
experimental  knowledge  of  the  mysterious 
workings  of  our  own  heart,  of  our  own 
inclinations  and  repulsions,  and  how  in 
our  own  souls  the  enemy  has  conquered  or 
been  overthrown.  And  yet,  with  all  this 
we  shall  meet  with  problems  in  our  in- 
dividual ministry  for  which  we  have  no 
solution.  We  shall  be  asked  questions  to 
which  we  have  no  personal  reply.  There 
will  be  locks  for  which  we  have  no  keys. 
How  then?  There  is  nothing  more  per- 
nicious for  a  minister  and  for  his  people 

[200] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  THE  HOME 


than  for  him  to  assume  knowledge  and 
certainties  which  he  does  not  possess.  We 
discourage  our  people  when  w^e  speak 
lightly  and  airily  about  heights  that  we 
have  never  climbed,  and  when  we  move 
with  an  air  of  familiarity  in  regions  where 
w^e  have  no  light.  The  best  help  you  can 
offer  some  men  is  to  tell  them  that  you 
share  their  doubt  and  fear,  and  that  the 
door  at  which  they  are  knocking  has  never 
been  opened  to  j^ou.  Let  them  feel  your 
kinship  in  uncertainty  where  uncertainty 
reigns,  and  make  no  pretence  of  cloudless 
noon  where  there  are  only  the  doubtful 
rays  of  uncertain  dawn.  We  are  harmful 
in  our  ministry  when  we  profess  experi- 
ences which  to  ourselves  and  to  others  are 
only  in  the  region  of  alluring  dreams. 
When  you  are  certain  speak  in  faith, 
"nothing  wavering":  when  you  are  un- 
certain, when  the  light  is  still  dubious, 
speak  like  a  man  who  is  watching  for  the 
morning:  "For  we  know  in  part,  and  we 
prophesy  in  part " :  and  concerning  the 
things  we  know  not  it  is  a  minister's  wis- 

[201] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

dom  and  piety  to  confess  his  ignorance, 
and  to  calmly  and  hopefully  await  the 
further  unveiling. 

In  all  that  I  have  said  to  you  in  this 
lecture  I  have  assumed  that  in  your  inter- 
course with  men  you  will  act  as  "  the 
friend  of  the  Bridegroom."  You  are 
about  His  most  sacred  business,  seeking 
to  win  the  soul  to  the  Lord,  and  to  minister 
to  the  holy  relationships  of  Bridegroom 
and  bride.  That  is  our  business,  and  we 
must,  therefore,  be  regularly  watchful  lest 
any  mood  or  disposition  of  ours  should 
give  a  false  impression  of  the  Bride- 
groom and  scare  away  the  prospective 
bride.  It  is  needful  that  we  be  jealously 
careful  lest  the  impression  we  give  in  the 
pulpit  should  be  effaced  when  we  get  into 
the  home.  "  Jesting,  which  is  not  con- 
venient," is  never  friendly  to  the  Bride- 
groom. Spiritual  moods  are  very  sensi- 
tive, as  sensitive  and  delicate  as  the  awak- 
enings of  early  love.  Can  you  think  of 
anything  more  exquisite  than  the  love  of 
a  young  girl,  a  love  newly  born  in  her 

[202] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  THE  HOME 


soul,  which  she  hides  almost  from  herself, 
and  in  the  most  intense  shyness  shrinks 
from  giving  it  expression?  I  know  of 
only  one  thing  more  exquisite  still, — the 
earliest  mood  of  the  soul  when  it  is  first 
*'  falling  in  Love  "  with  the  Lord.  Yes, 
"  the  soul's  awakening "  is  more  exquisite 
still.  And  this  love  for  the  Bridegroom 
can  be  checked  and  bruised  by  the  Bride- 
groom's friend;  he  can  change  its  vision 
into  fancies,  and  he  can  pervert  its  dawn- 
ing passion  into  a  transient  dream.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  he  may,  by  Christian 
grace  and  courtesy,  and  by  "  the  strength 
which  God  supplies,"  confirm  the  "  heart's 
desire  "  of  a  would-be-lover  until  the  soul, 
wooed  by  his  message,  and  encouraged 
by  his  life,  has  become  the  consort  of  Him 
who  is  "  the  chief  among  ten  thousand  and 
the  altogether  lovely." 

I  close  this  lecture  with  personal  witness 
as  to  the  spiritual  good  which  has  come  my 
way  through  ministering  to  sick  and 
troubled  people,  and  to  those  who  were 
beaten  and  crippled  by  the  way.     All  the 

[  203  ] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

way  along  it  has  quickened  and  deepened 
my  communion  with  God.  Soon  after  I 
entered  the  ministry  I  was  called  upon  to 
visit  the  senior  elder  of  my  church,  who 
had  been  taken  sick  unto  death.  He  had 
been  a  noble  and  stately  figure  among  us, 
a  certain  old-world  grace  and  courtesy  re- 
flecting the  strength  and  dignity  of  his 
soul.  He  had  been  a  great  friend  of  the 
Master,  and  he  had  done  his  Master's  work 
in  a  great  way.  I  saw  him  two  or  three 
daj^s  before  he  died,  when  it  was  known 
that  the  end  might  come  at  any  time,  and 
I  found  he  was  enjoying  Dickens'  "  Pick- 
wick Papers"!  I  must  have  made  some 
remark  about  it,  and  he  replied  very  sim- 
ply that  he  had  always  been  fond  of  Pick- 
wick, and  that  he  would  not  be  ashamed, 
when  the  Master  came,  to  be  found  deep 
in  the  enjoyment  of  such  innocent  humour. 
I  do  not  know  what  helpful  ministry  I 
brought  to  him,  but  I  know  that  he  gave 
to  me  a  broadly  human  conception  of 
matured  piet)^  which  all  along  the  way 
has  enriched  my  conception  of  the  fruits 

[204] 


THE  PREACHER  IN  THE  HOME 


of  the  Holy  Spirit.  In  a  very  recent 
day  of  my  ministry  I  went  to  see  a  man 
who  had  cancer  in  the  throat.  Time  after 
time  I  had  communion  with  him  and  never 
did  a  word  of  complaint  escape  his  lips. 
The  disease  got  fiercer  hold  upon  him,  his 
voice  sank  to  a  whisper,  and  at  last  all 
power  of  speech  ceased.  The  first  time  I 
saw  him  after  he  had  become  dumb,  he 
took  a  slip  of  paper  and  wrote  these  words 
upon  it,  "  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and 
forget  not  all  His  benefits ! "  Again  I 
say  I  know  not  what  help  I  brought  to 
him,  but  I  know  he  gave  to  me  the  actual 
vision  of  higher  range  of  human  possi- 
bility, of  severe  and  splendid  triumph 
wrought  in  the  power  of  divine  grace. 

These  two  incidents  are  taken  from  the 
early  days  and  the  latter  days  of  the 
last  twenty  years,  and  they  are  typical 
of  a  countless  succession  of  ministerial 
experiences  which  have  poured  wealth 
into  my  own  treasury,  enriching  my 
possession  of  faith  and  hope  and  love. 
And  this,   too,   will  be  the   happy   record 

[205] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

of  your  own  labours.  While  you  give 
you  will  receive.  While  you  comfort  5^o>:i 
will  be  comforted.  While  you  counsel  you 
will  be  enlightened.  While  you  lift  an- 
other's burden  your  own  burden  will  be 
made  light.  For  here,  too,  does  the  word 
of  the  Lord  prevail:  "  He  that  findeth  his 
life  shall  lose  it:  and  he  that  loseth  his  life 
for  My  sake  shall  find  it." 


[206] 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  AFFAIRS 

**Like  unto  a  merchantman  *' 


I,    BCTURE     .     SEVEN 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN 
OF  AFFAIRS 

''  Like  unto  a  merchantman  " 

In  the  course  of  these  lectures  we  have 
considered  the  life  and  ministry  of  the 
preacher  in  many  varied  relations, — in  his 
study,  in  his  pulpit,  and  in  the  home,  and 
we  have  sought  to  realize,  in  all  these 
varying  conditions,  the  line  of  purpose  and 
obligation.  To-day  we  are  to  consider 
quite  another  relation,  not,  perhaps,  so 
quick,  and  vital,  and  momentous  as  the 
others,  and  j^et  one  which  seriously  affects 
the  fruits  of  the  others,  either  in  the  way 
of  retarding  or  advancing  them.  I  am 
to  speak  of  the  Preacher  as  a  man  of  af- 
fairs, as  one  who  meets  and  consults  with 
other  men  in  the  business  management  of 
the  church.  And  I  am  venturing  to  take 
the  direction  and  tone  of  my  thought  from 
the  teaching  of  the  Master  when  He  said 
that  "  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  is  like  unto 

[209] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

a  merchantman."  That  is  to  say,  our 
Master  commands,  and  appropriates,  and 
sanctifies  business  instincts  and  aptitudes 
in  the  ministry  of  the  kingdom.  Talents 
and  faculties,  which  are  used  in  the  affairs 
of  the  world,  are  to  be  used  in  the  in- 
terests of  our  "  Father's  business."  "  The 
children  of  the  world "  are  not  to  be 
wiser  than  "  the  children  of  light."  We 
are  not  to  "  scrap  "  the  business  gifts,  and 
rely  upon  some  mysterious  influence  which 
works  without  them.  We  are  to  be  vigi- 
lant, punctual,  enterprising,  decisive,  sur- 
rendering all  our  senses  to  the  work,  and 
notably  the  king  of  all  the  senses,  the 
sense  which  makes  all  other  senses  effective, 
the  power  of  common  sense.  We  are  to 
be  as  merchantmen,  men  of  sobriety,  of 
wide  sanity,  of  keen  but  cool  judgment, 
alert  but  not  hasty,  zealous  but  circum- 
spect, doing  the  King's  business  in  a 
business-like  way. 

Now  I  think  you  would  find  it  a  very 
common  confession  that  it  is  just  here  that 
many  preachers  fail.    They  may  be  accept- 

[£10] 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  AFFAIRS 

able  and  even  powerful  in  the  pulpit. 
They  may  be  congenial  and  most  welcome 
in  the  home.  •  But  they  are  impossible  in 
business.  No  one  can  "  get  on "  with 
them.  They  have  no  sense  of  manage- 
ment or  address.  They  are  inopportune 
when  they  think  themselves  seasonable, 
they  are  stupid  when  they  think  them- 
selves persistent.  Their  "  goods  "  may  be 
admirable,  but  they  lack  the  power  to  dis- 
pose of  them.  They  can  hold  their  own 
in  the  pulpit,  but  they  have  no  strength 
in  the  vestry.  They  can  "  carry  "  a  con- 
gregation, they  cannot  lead  the  Diaconate 
or  the  Session.  They  succeed  as  preachers 
but  they  fail  as  merchantmen. 

This  lack  of  business  ability  may  some- 
times be  traced  to  a  deeper  need  from 
which  it  directly  springs,  and  I  wish  you 
to  consider  two  or  three  of  these  deeper 
things  upon  which  our  real  business  apti- 
tude depends.  First  of  all  then,  I  should 
say  that  the  primary  requisite,  if  we  are 
to  be  successful  men  of  affairs,  is  that  we 
ourselves  be  7nen,     Some  time  ago  an  article 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

appeared  in  an  American  magazine  entitled 
"  Is  the  preacher  a  molly-coddle?  "  In  the 
course  of  the  article  the  writer  makes  the 
following  statement :  "  Among  strong, 
steadfast,  manly  business  men,  as  well  as 
among  the  athletes  of  the  baseball  and  foot- 
ball field,  there  is  a  kind  of  belief  or  feeling 
that  all  preachers  belong  in  some  measure 
to  the  molly-coddle  class."  Now  I  suppose 
a  molly-coddle  is  a  man  who  lacks  resolu- 
tion, energy,  or  hardihood,  and  that  the. 
term  is  used  in  derision  or  contempt,  and 
I  am  afraid  it  expresses  the  conception  of 
the  Christian  preacher  which  is  very  com- 
monly entertained  by  men  of  the  world. 
I  know,  of  course,  that  the  man  of  the 
world  is  inclined  to  regard  anything  that 
looks  beyond  his  own  material  circle  as 
belonging  to  the  effeminate,  and  his  judg- 
ment is  by  no  means  the  final  standard 
of  strong  and  healthy  life.  And  yet  we 
ought  to  listen  to  his  judgment,  and  pon- 
der its  weight,  even  though  we  have  finally 
to  discard  it  as  practically  worthless.  If 
there  be  any  truth  in  the  conception  that 

[212] 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  AFFAIRS 

the  preacher  is  lacking  in  the  elements  of 
true  manliness  we  ought  to  see  to  it  that 
the  occasion  of  the  judgment  is  changed. 
We  must  get  more  iron  into  our  blood, 
more  vision  into  our  ideals,  more  vigour 
into  our  purposes,  more  sacrifice  into  our 
services,  more  tenacity  into  our  wills.  We 
must  get  rid  of  all  that  is  soft,  and  lax, 
and  flabby,  and  lethargic,  and  manifest 
to  men  that  combination  of  strength  and 
gentleness  which  is  the  fruit  of  the  finest 
piety  and  the  characteristic  of  all  true 
manliness.  On  the  side  of  vision  the 
preacher's  life  should  touch  the  romantic: 
on  the  side  of  labour  he  should  touch  the 
heroic:  and  in  all  his  contact  with  men 
they  should  be  made  to  feel  his  possession 
of  a  fresh  and  healthy  vigour  which  clearly 
attests  that  he  has  found  the  fountain  of 
vitality,  and  that  he  drinks  of  "  the  river 
of  water  of  life."  Vie  certainly  can  never  v^^v 
be  successful  merchantmen  unless  we  are, 
first  of  all,  men. 

A  second  necessity,  if  we  are  to  be  com- 
petent   men    of    affairs,    is    a    competent 

[213] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

knowledge  of  men.  Our  fellow-oiRcers  in 
the  government  of  the  Church  are  not  like 
so  many  billiard-balls,  devoid  of  individ- 
uality, having  precisely  the  same  weight, 
running  in  precisely  the  same  manner,  and 
by  their  inherent  constitution  determined 
by  precisely  the  same  initiatives  to  a  com- 
mon motion.  When  we  are  dealing  with 
men  the  further  we  can  get  away  from 
the  conception  of  a  billiard-ball  the  better 
it  will  be  for  the  progress  of  our  business. 
We  must  study  men,  we  must  know  their 
differences  as  well  as  their  unities,  in  order 
that  we  may  know  what  are  the  different 
motives  which  will  produce  a  common 
movement.  You  will  be  surprised  how 
many  types  of  character  there  are  within 
the  circle  of  a  Session  or  a  Diaconate. 
There  are  the  facile  men,  swift  in  vision 
and  in  judgment,  seeing  their  goal  and 
leaping  to  decision.  There  are  the  slow- 
witted  men,  following  the  others  like  a 
carrier's  wagon  in  the  track  of  an  auto- 
mobile, arriving  at  clear  vision  through 
dim,    stages,    first    "  seeing    men    as    trees 

[214] 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  AFFAIRS 

walking,"  and  troubled  by  doubts  and  in- 
decisions. You  will  have  these  men  to 
deal  with,  and  it  is  needful  you  should 
know  when  they  have  only  reached  the 
"  tree- walking  "  stage,  lest  you  should  un- 
wisely hurry  them  along  the  half-dark- 
ened way.  Then  there  are  the  genial  men, 
the  men  whose  dispositions  are  confluent 
and  agreeable,  a  fervent  fluid  ready  for 
any  mould.  There  are  also  the  fixed,  the 
rigid,  with  dispositions  that  are  only  rarely 
ductile,  and  who  are  hurt  and  resentful 
if  they  are  unseasonabl}^  squeezed  into 
some  newly-fashioned  mould.  Most  surely 
you  will  meet  such  men,  and  it  is  a  science 
and  art  of  the  finest  human  perception  and 
ministry  to  soften  their  rigidity,  almost 
without  their  knowing  it,  and  to  conduct 
their  loosened  spirit  into  the  altered  fash- 
ion of  a  new  day.  And  there  are  the  old 
men,  valuable  because  of  their  years,  retro- 
spective, often  finding  their  "  golden  age  '* 
in  the  days  that  are  past,  in  "  the  days  that 
have  been,"  their  souls  inclining  to  con- 
servatism and  venerable  convention.     And 

[  215  ] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

there  are  the  younger  men,  feehng  "  the 
days  before  them,"  thrilled  by  radiant 
vision,  held  by  prospect  rather  than  re- 
membrance, inclined  to  take  short  cuts  to 
desired  ends,  and  to  use  very  radical  means 
to  ererything  that  obstructs  their  path. 
You  may  probably  find  all  these  singu- 
larly varied  types  within  the  fellowship 
of  your  church  government,  and  they  are 
your  fellow-labourers  in  the  business  of  the 
Church.  Their  co-operation  is  needed  in 
the  progress  of  the  business,  and  you  are 
the  one  who  is  to  make  the  co-operation 
possible  and  effective.  Some  of  your  offi- 
cers bring  the  equipment  of  eyes,  while 
others  bring  the  equipment  of  hands. 
Some  again  bring  the  wings  of  the  fellow- 
ship while  others  can  only  supply  feet. 
There  is  the  artist  and  there  is  the  artisan, 
the  architect  and  the  builder,  the  practical 
man  and  the  dreamer  of  dreams.  What 
are  we  going  to  do  with  all  these  unless 
we  have  some  knowledge  of  men?  With- 
out that  knowledge  we  may  have  intensity, 
but  we  shall  lack  leadership:  we  may  have 

[216] 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  AFFAIRS 

rashness,  but  we  shall  lack  courage:  there 
may  be  plenty  "  going  on,"  but  there  will 
be  little  going  forward:  there  may  be  even 
apparent  progress,  but  there  will  also  be 
restraint  and  reluctance  which  will  chill  the 
progress  at  its  very  heart. 

How  is  this  knowledge  to  be  gained?  It 
is  to  be  gained  chiefly  by  the  general  cul- 
ture and  refinement  of  our  own  character. 
Even  the  "  communion  of  saints "  must 
not  be  left  to  indolent  chance,  or  to  the 
discoveries  of  caprice.  Fruitful  commun- 
ion is  the  reward  of  culture:  fine  corre- 
spondences among  men  are  the  rare  issues 
of  assiduous  processes  of  moral  discipline. 
We  are  not  going  to  know  men  without 
"taking  pains":  which  is  only  another 
way  of  saying  that  all  valuable  knowledge 
is  reached  at  the  end  of  a  painful  road.  If 
we  would  know  men  we  must  discipline  our 
powers  of  discernment.  We  must  lift  our 
eyes  away  from  the  self-circle,  and  turn 
them  upon  the  factors  moving  in  another 
man's  circle.  "  Look  not  every  man  on  his 
own   things,    but   every   man   also   on   the 

[217] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

things  of  others."  That  in  itself  is  an  ex- 
ceedingly valuable  exercise,  just  to  recog-  | 
nize  that  there  are  other  fields  whose  con- 
tour and  features  differ  from  our  own. 
Then  with  disciplined  discernments  we  must 
discipline  our  imagination.  Common  dis- 
cernment may  give  us  the  external  config- 
uration of  another  man's  field,  but  only  a 
fine  imagination  will  give  us  his  interpreta- 
tion of  it.  I  am  using  the  word  "  imagina- 
tion "  in  the  sense  of  enlightened  sym- 
pathy, the  power  to  get  beneath  another 
man's  skin,  and  look  out  through  his  win- 
dows, and  obtain  his  view  of  the  world. 
I  mean  the  power  by  which  one  man  can 
identify  himself  with  another,  can  become 
almost  incorporate  with  another,  and  real- 
ize his  general  sense  and  appreciation  of 
the  things  with  which  we  deal.  This  is  by 
no  means  easy:  if  any  man  thinks  it  easy, 
he  has  certainly  not  yet  mastered  the 
strong  and  gracious  art.  Casting  my  mind 
over  biography  and  autobiography  I  do  not 
know  any  man  who  possessed  the  gift  in 
richer  measure  than  Frederick  Robertson 

[218] 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  AFFAIRS 

of  Brighton.  He  knew  men  in  a  most 
surprising  manner,  and,  even  though  their 
judgments  and  convictions  differed  almost 
immeasurably  from  his  own,  he  made 
laborious  effort  to  understand  their  posi- 
tions and  to  appreciate  their  sense  and 
value.  There  is,  consequently,  a  fine  cath- 
olicity about  his  mind,  and  there  is  a  noble 
comradeship  about  his  manner,  and  he 
moves  with  an  intelligent  and  sympathetic 
discernment  of  those  whose  conclusions  he 
cannot  share.  But  all  this,  I  say,  is  not 
an  easy  attainment,  it  is  a  fruit  of  per- 
sistent culture:  and  if  you  and  I  are  to 
be  wise  and  strong  leaders  of  men  who  are 
of  very  varjang  mental  fashion  and  emo- 
tional moods,  we  must  subject  ourselves  to 
the  same  quiet  and  serious  discipline,  and 
sympathetically  and  imaginatively  appre- 
ciate their  individuality,  and  realize  their 
own  peculiar  points  of  view. 

Now  a  discipline  of  this  kind,  the  exer- 
cise of  discernment  and  sympathetic  imagi- 
nation, will  give  us  the  invaluable  posses- 
sion of  tact.     I   have  sometimes  heard  it 

[219] 


•f 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

said  that  if  a  man  is  devoid  of  tact  bj^  1 
nature  he  will  never  gain  it  as  an  acquisi- 
tion: that  it  is  always  innate  and  never  an 
accomplishment.  I  don't  believe  it.  I  do 
not  attach  so  fatal  and  final  a  sovereignty 
to  the  drift  of  heredity.  I  believe  that 
when  God  gives  His  good  grace  all  good 
graces  are  implicated  in  the  gift,  and  that 
by  requisite  care  and  culture  they  can  be 
evolved  with  all  the  order  and  certainty 
of  the  production  i/  flowers  and  fruits.  I 
believe  that  clumsy  people  can  become 
tactful,  and  that  folk  who  are  brusque  and 
abrupt  can  become  gracious  and  courteous, 
and  that  the  indifferent  and  inconsiderate 
can  become  thoughtful  and  sympathetic. 
There  is  no  excuse  for  our  tactlessness,  and 
if  even  we  are  temperamentally  tactless  it 
is  our  urgent  duty  to  change  it  by  the 
ministries  of  discipline  and  grace. 

But  what  trouble  and  disaster  the  want 
of  tact  is  working  among  the  ministry  of 
the  churches!  I  am  appalled  at  times  to 
hear  accounts  of  ministerial  tactlessness 
which  are  almost  incredible  in  their  exhibi- 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  AFFAIRS 

tion  of  infantile  ignorance  of  men.  I  have 
known  many  churches  where  spiritual  life 
has  been  chilled,  and  spiritual  enterprise 
has  been  ruined  by  the  minister's  tactless 
handling  of  men  who  were  to  carry  his 
desires  and  purposes  to  fruition.  Such 
ministers  treat  their  fellow-officers  as  so 
many  marionettes,  and  lo!  the  marionettes 
prove  to  be  alive,  with  very  marked  and 
vivacious  personalities,  and  there  is  con- 
sequent discord  and  strife.  And  therefore 
do  I  urge  you  to  study  and  know  your 
men:  know  them  through  the  ministry  of 
a  hallowed  and  sympathetic  imagination, 
and  always  bear  them  in  strong  and  con- 
siderate regard.  And  j^ou  will  come  to 
possess  tact,  that  fineness  of  feeling  which 
can  diagnose  without  touching,  that  mys- 
tical divining-rod  which  apprehends  the 
hidden  waters  in  the  shyest  and  most 
secluded  life.  But  even  this  is  not  enoughr 
If  our  equipment  for  the  knowledge  of 
men  is  to  be  even  passably  complete  we 
must  exercise  a  genial  sense  of  humour, 
by  whose  kindly  light  we  shall  be  saved 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

from  pious  stupidities,  and  from  that 
grotesqueness  of  judgment  which  sees 
tragedy  in  comedy,  griffins  in  asses,  and 
mountains  in  mole-hills.  Gentlemen,  we 
need   to   know   men,   and   when   our   men 

■^  know  that  we  know  them,  and  respect  and 
revere  them,  you  may  depend  upon  it  we 
have  got  the  key  into  the  lock  which  will 
open  their  most  secret  gate. 

I  have  one  further  word  to  say  respect- 
ing our  relations  with  those  with  whom  we 
have  to  co-operate  in  managing  the  busi- 
ness of  the  Church.  See  to  it  that  you 
exalt  the  great  and  noble  dignity  of  their 
office.  Hedge  it  about  with  reverence  and 
prayerful  regard.    Let  every  man  feel  that 

V  no  greater  honour  will  ever  come  his  way 
than  his  appointment  to  service  in  the 
Church  of  the  Lord.  '  Save  the  office  from 
degenerating  into  a  merely  social  distinc- 
tion. Lift  it  up  into  a  solemn  and  holy 
privilege  in  the  Lord.  Never  let  any 
man  assume  an  office  without  the  oppor- 
tunity of  gazing  at  his  "  high  calling  of 
God  in  Christ  Jesus."    Lift  his  eyes  up  to 

[222] 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  AFFAIRS 

the  hills!  Speak  to  him  about  it.  Write 
to  him  about  it.  And  when  he  has  entered 
upon  the  office,  and  has  even  spent  some 
years  in  the  service,  seek  his  intimacy  from 
time  to  time  that  you  may  refresh  his 
sense  of  the  sacred  honour  and  responsi- 
bility of  his  vocation.  You  will  find  he 
will  welcome  it,  he  will  be  grateful  for  it, 
he  will  rise  to  it.  And  never  allow  any 
countenance  to  be  given  to  the  divorce  of 
the  secular  and  spiritual  affairs  of  the 
church,  as  though  he  who  is  working  in 
the  administration  of  the  temporalities  is 
engaged  in  a  less  sacred  mission  than  he 
who  labours  in  the  business  of  worship  and 
communion.  Exalt  them  both  alike;  set  a 
common  seal  of  sanctity  upon  them :  and  let 
the  "  door-keeper  in  the  house  of  our  God  " 
feel  that  his  office  is  as  sacred  as  the  office 
of  him  who  lights  the  candles  at  the  altar, 
or  of  him  who  bears  the  intercession  into 
the  holy  place.  And  remember  this:  the 
atmosphere  and  spirit  in  which  all  busi- 
ness is  done  determines  the  real  quality 
and  value  of  the  business.     And  remem- 

[223] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

ber  further:  in  a  company  of  church  offi- 
cers it  is  the  minister  who  is  supremely 
the  creator  of  atmosphere,  and  that  if  he 
is  small,  and  churlish,  and  impatient,  and 
irritable,  and  self-willed,  he  makes  condi- 
tions in  which  all  sorts  of  petty  things 
breed  and  flourish:  but  if  he  is  large,  and 
liberal,  and  patient,  and  self-controlled,  he 
creates  a  genial  air  and  temper  in  which 
all  big  things  breathe  easily,  and  generous 
purposes  find  congenial  hospitality  and 
support. 

And  now  I  want  to  offer  you  a  few  gen- 
eral principles  of  business  management 
which  I  think  you  will  do  well  to  heed  in 
your  ministry.  And  the  first  is  this: 
Never  move  with  small  majorities.  Never 
take  an  important  step  in  church  life  if  a 
large  minority  is  opposed  to  your  pro- 
posals. I  inherited  this  principle  from  Dr. 
Dale,  and  I  have  steadily  honoured  it  all 
through  the  j^ears  of  my  ministry.  When 
Dr.  Dale's  diaconate  had  discussed  some 
new  proposals,  and  it  was  then  found  that 
a  minority  of  the  deacons  were  opposed  to 

[  224  ] 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  AFFAHIS 

their  adoption,  the  proposals  were  tabled, 
and  no  action  was  taken.  You  may  ex- 
claim about  the  waste  of  time,  the  fre- 
quent and  irritating  delays!  Yes,  but  re- 
member that  when  Dr.  Dale's  diaconate 
did  move  it  moved  to  some  purpose,  with 
unbroken  solidity  and  with  no  hampering 
hesitancy  in  its  ranks.  There  was  no  half- 
movement, — the  feet  advancing,  but  the 
eyes  held  in  lingering  retrospect.  It  was 
movement  enlightened,  expectant,  and  ir- 
resistible. A  small,  lukewarm,  uncon- 
vinced minority  can  chill  the  heart  of  even 
a  fine  crusade.  For  you  know  how  it  is 
with  men.  When  men  have  been  simply 
"  voted  down,"  and  carried  forward  against 
their  judgments,  there  often  begins  a 
process  of  self -justification  which  greedily 
seeks  evidence  to  confirm  their  position. 
"He,  being  willing  to  justify  himself!" 
That  subtle  quest  governs  our  conduct 
even  more  than  we  realize.  We  love  to 
maintain  our  own  conclusions  even  when 
some  opposing  action  has  been  taken,  and 
we  have  more  than  a  secret  delight  when 

[  225  ] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

something  happens  which  spoils  the  action, 
or  in  any  way  interferes  with  expected  re- 
sults. We  do  not  realize  that  perhaps  one 
cause  of  the  sluggish  or  disappointing 
movement  is  just  our  own  moody  and 
suspicious  reluctance.  We  think  we  are 
only  spectators,  watching  others  act,  when 
in  reality  we  are  very  busy  actors,  who 
being  "  willing "  and  eager  "to  justify  " 
ourselves,  are  hampering  those  who  began 
a  movement  which  was  opposed  to  our 
judgments.  And  so  do  I  counsel  you  not 
to  move  with  small  majorities.  Far  better 
wait  than  try  to  run  some  new  engine  with 
lukewarm  water.  Wait  for  more  enthu- 
siasm: wait  and  pray  for  the  unanimity  of 
strong  devotion.  It  is  pre-eminently  true 
in  matters  of  church  business  that  there 
must  be  light  before  there  can  be  heat, 
there  must  be  conviction  before  there  can 
be  resolute  consecration,  there  must  be  an 
enlightened  judgment  before  there  can  be 
a  really  vigorous  and  fruitful  will.  I 
have  known  churches  ruined  by  the  neg- 
lect  of  this  principle.     Great   action  has 

[  S26  ] 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  AFFAIRS 

been  taken  without  serious  union,  and 
premature  movement  has  left  behind  an 
unconvinced  and  irritated  remnant,  who 
would  not  march  as  allies,  and  whose  posi- 
tion scarcely  gave  them  the  helpful  spirit 
of  friends.  Perhaps  in  all  these  matters 
we  cannot  do  better  than  take  for  our 
ideal  the  condition  portrayed  in  a  hidden 
and  little  known  passage  in  the  Book  of 
Chronicles,  where  a  strong  and  victorious 
army  is  described  as  going  "  forth  to  bat- 
tle, expert  in  war,  fifty  thousand,  which 
would  keep  rank:  they  were  not  of  double 
heart."  I  always  think  that  a  minister, 
moving  with  a  solidly  united  and  sym- 
pathetic Diaconate  or  Session,  can  do  al- 
most  anything ! 

The  second  principle  of  business  man- 
agement which  I  will  offer  you  is  this; 
avoid  the  notoriety  and  the  impotence  of 
always  wanting  something  new.  There 
are  some  men  who  have  new  schemes  for 
their  officers  almost  every  time  they  meet. 
Scheme  after  scheme  is  designed  and  pro- 
duced, each  new  one  effacing  the  signifi- 

[227] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

cance  of  the  last,  until  in  the  multitude 
of  designs  nothing  is  accomplished.  The 
officers  are  continually  spending  their  time, 
not  in  the  inspiration  of  vision  and  task, 
but  in  the  soporific  exercise  of  dreaming 
dreams.  I  sometimes  think  it  would  be  a 
useful  thing,  at  any  rate  it  would  be  a 
surprising  and  perhaps  a  humbling  thing, 
if  a  strong,  vigilant  committee  could  be 
occasionally  appointed  to  make  a  thorough 
examination  of  the  church  minute-book  for 
the  purpose  of  exhuming  all  resolutions 
that  were  still-born,  and  all  that  had  in- 
dependent life  but  were  never  given  a  fair 
chance  of  growing  up,  and  all  that  by  some 
ill-chance  were  forgotten  and  had  died 
from  sheer  starvation  and  neglect.  The 
report  of  such  a  committee  would  provide 
matter  for  a  most  important  and  signifi- 
cant meeting!  It  might  be  held  once 
every  five  years,  or  even  more  frequently 
where  the  death-rate  is  abnormally  high, 
where  schemes  and  purposes  die  almost  as 
soon  as  they  are  born.  It  might  be  called 
a  meeting  for  the  disinterring  and  exami- 

[228] 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  AFFAIRS 

nation  of  resolutions  which  have  never  been 
carried  out,  proposals  that  never  fructi- 
fied, promising  schemes  which  have 
drooped  and  no  one  knew  the  hour  of 
their  burial!  It  would  be  a  very  sombre 
and  melancholy  meeting.  It  would  be  like 
spending  an  hour  in  a  graveyard.  But 
I  am  sure  the  experience  would  not  be 
without  profit,  and  we  might  discover  the 
folly  of  continually  originating  schemes 
merely  to  bury  them,  and  of  multiplying 
a  family  of  plans  and  devices  which  im- 
mediately sink  into  their  graves. 

If  we  are  competent  merchantmen  in  the 
business  of  the  Church  we  shall  limit  our 
schemes,  and  we  shall  operate  them  to  the 
last  ounce  of  our  strength.  We  shall  not 
waste  and  squander  our  power  in  twenty 
scouting  excursions,  but  we  shall  use  it  in 
sinldng  one  or  two  good  mines,  and  work- 
ing them  with  noble  and  persistent  ex- 
ploration. That,  is  what  we  want  in  the 
ministry,  men  who  will  concentrate  upon 
one  or  two  promising  mines,  and  week 
after  week  produce  the  invaluable  ore.     If 

[  229  ] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

the  pulpit  is  your  mine,  don't  play  with 
it,  work  it  night  and  day.  If  the  Sunday- 
School  is  your  mine,  sink  your  shaft  deeper 
and  deeper,  open  out  new  seams  and  veins 
of  treasure,  and  let  the  mine  abundantly 
justify  itself  by  its  products.  Whatever 
may  be  your  mine,  put  your  strength  into 
it.  I  am  a  strong  believer  in  a  very  few 
schemes,  but  tried  to  the  utmost;  I  believe 
in  a  very  few  mines,  but  worked  for  all 
they  are  worth.  The  life  of  our  day 
tempts  us  to  diffuseness.  We  are  tempted 
to  have  too  many  irons  in  the  fire,  and  we 
don't  beat  any  one  of  them  to  final 
*'  shape  and  use."  Gentlemen,  have  a 
few  well-designed  and  well-proportioned 
schemes.  Don't  lose  yourself  in  dreams. 
Lay  your  hands  upon  a  few  things,  and 
hold  on  to  them  like  grim  death,  and  make 
them  pay  daily  tribute  to  the  Lord  your 
God.  Master  something.  Finish  some- 
thing, or  be  still  working  away  at  it  when 
the  Lord  promotes  you  to  higher  service. 
That  was  the  Master's  way.  "  I  have 
finished  the  work  which  Thou  gavest  Me  to 

[  230  ] 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  AFFAIRS 

do."  He  "  set  His  face "  steadfastly  to 
it,  nothing  drew  Him  aside,  and  He  fin- 
ished it.  "  Having  loved  His  own  which 
were  in  the  world  He  loved  them  unto  the 
end."  His  purposeful  affection  continued 
its  ministry  with  tenacious  and  deathless 
persistency,  and  it  never  let  go!  And  this, 
too,  was  the  way  of  the  Apostle  Paul. 
"This  one  thing  I  do!"  His  life  and 
work  were  controlled  by  a  glorious  concen- 
tration, and  he  held  on  to  his  track  like  a 
hound  that  has  found  the  trail.  Follow 
his  inspired  example.  Don't  be  forever 
itching  after  novelties.  Don't  be  con- 
tinually shifting  your  ground.  "  Hold 
fast  that  which  thou  hast :  "  hold  on  to  it, 
and  "  let  patience  have  her  perfect  work." 
I  will  offer  you  a  third  principle  for 
your  guidance  in  the  business  affairs  of  the 
Church.  Never  mistake  the  multiplication 
of  organization  for  the  enlargement  and 
enrichment  of  service.  Do  not  be  deceived 
into  thinking  that  you  are  doing  work 
when  you  are  only  preparing  to  do  it.  It 
is  very  possible  to  elaborate  our  machinery 

[231] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

and  not  increase  our  products.  We  may 
have  much  mechanism  but  little  or  no  life. 
That  is  one  of  the  immense  perils  of  our 
day,  and  the  ministers  of  the  Church  of 
Christ  are  peculiarly  exposed  to  it.  We 
organize,  and  organize,  and  organize!  I 
suppose  there  was  never  a  time  when  or- 
ganization was  so  rife  as  it  is  to-day.  You 
can  hear  the  "  noise  "  of  the  bones  coming 
together.  You  can  hear  the  "  shaking '' 
of  their  approach.  Never  was  there  such 
skill  shown  in  the  work  of  incorporation. 
Bone  is  fitted  to  bone,  and  the  strength 
of  sinews  is  added,  and  the  grace  of  flesh 
and  skin.  But  here  is  the  vital  question: 
is  it  only  clever  manufacture  or  is  it  in- 
spired creation?  Is  it  only  a  lovely  corpse, 
or  does  it  live — live,  I  mean,  with  the  life 
of  God?  Much  of  it,  I  know,  thrills  with 
holy  and  effective  life,  and  in  its  gracious 
movement  it  is  possessed  by  breath  divine. 
And  yet  how  very  much  of  our  organiza- 
tion is  only  an  articulated  corpse!  It  does>^ 
not  carry  a  burden:  it  is  rather  a  burden^ 
that  has  to  be  borne.    It  is  an  organization^ 

[  232  ] 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  AFFAIRS 

but  not  an  organism!     It  has  no  central 
soul,  no  life,  no  breath.     It  stops  short  of 
the  vital,  the  inspirational,  the  divine.     It^ 
has  got  everything  but  God  I 

I  believe  that  what  the  old  world  needs 
just  now  is  not  so  much  the  multiplication 
of  organization  as  the  baptism  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  We  have  piles  of  organization, 
but  they  lie  prone  upon  the  earth,  incor- 
porated death.  We  have  got  organiza- 
tion enough  to  revolutionize  the  race.  It 
is  not  more  schemes  we  want,  more  asso- 
ciations, more  meetings:  we  want  the 
breath  and  fire  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  A 
small  organization,  with  breath  in  it,  can 
do  the  work  of  an  army.  I  am  not  decry- 
ing the  institutional.  The  institutional  is 
necessary:  it  is  imperative:  but  I  fear  that 
in  these  days  we  ministers  may  be  so  keen 
on  organizing  that  we  rest  contented  when 
the  body  is  articulated,  even  though  it  lies 
stretched  and  breathless  on  the  ground. 
We  may  be  so  intent  upon  committees 
that  we  have  no  time  for  the  upper  room. 
We  may  be  so  "  public  "  that  we  forget 

[233] 


i/ 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

"  the  secret  place."  We  may  be  absorbed 
in  devising  machinery  and  careless  about 
the  power  which  is  to  make  it  go.  That  is 
our  peril.  I  know  it.  I  feel  it.  We 
may  be  busy  organizing  and  yet  have  no 
organic  life.  And  if  we  only  enlarge  our 
"  plant,"  and  multiply  our  machinery,  we 
are  apt  to  think  we  are  extending  the 
Kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ.  "  Be  not  deceived."  Keep  your 
eyes  on  essentials.  "  Pray  without  ceas- 
ing," vigilantly  watch  for  "  the  fruits  of 
the  Spirit,"  and  smother  any  satisfaction 
which  does  not  honour  your  great  Re- 
deemer's name. 

There  is  a  fourth  principle  which  you 
will  do  well  to  heed  when,  with  your  fel- 
low-labourers, you  are  estimating  the  busi- 
ness of  the  Church.  Never  become  a  vie- 
tim  to  the  standard  of  numbers.  In  this 
holy  business  statistics  cannot  measure 
enterprise.  A  church-roll  by  no  means 
defines  the  limits  of  a  church's  influence 
and  ministry.  "  The  Kingdom  of  God 
Cometh  not  with  observation."     It  may  be 

[234] 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  AFFAIRS 

moving  here  and  there  like  the  faintest 
breathing,  like  the  almost  imperceptible 
stirring  of  the  air  at  the  dawn.  It  may 
be  here  and  there  in  the  creation  of  vision 
and  dream,  in  the  loosening  of  hidden  fear, 
in  the  healing  of  unknown  sorrow,  in  de- 
liverance from  secret  sin.  I  know  the  com- 
fort and  inspiration  that  come  to  a  minis- 
ter in  the  open  confession  of  God's  chil- 
dren, when  that  confession  is  simple,  and 
serious,  and  true.  But  I  am  not  going  to 
limit  my  conception  of  the  fruits  of  my 
ministry  to  products  like  these.  There 
are  many  people  who  find  their  Lord  who 
never  find  me.  There  are  many  children 
of  despondency  and  depression  who  steal 
into  my  services,  and  who  steal  out  again 
with  the  feeling  that  "  the  winter  is  past," 
and  that  "  the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds 
is  come."  But  no  news  of  their  spring- 
time gets  into  my  journal,  or  finds  a  place 
in  the  diaries  of  the  Church.  Many  a  weary 
business-man,  who  for  a  whole  week  has 
been  the  victim  of  the  dusty  plains,  trails 
into  the  church,  and  he  gets  a  vision  of  the 

[235] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

glory  of  the  hills  of  God,  and  his  soul  is 
restored,  but  no  tidings  of  his  soul's  jour- 
neyings  is  given  to  me.  Gentlemen,  we 
should  be  astonished  with  a  great  surprise 
if  we  knew  all  the  secret  happenings  which 
take  place  every  time  we  minister  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  in  sincerity  and  in  truth! 
Something  always  happens — deep  and 
gracious  and  beautiful,  and  the  great  Hus- 
bandman, who  never  overlooks  or  loses  any 
fruit,  will  gather  it  unto  everlasting  life. 
So  I  counsel  you  not  to  be  burdened  by 
the  menace  of  statistics,  and  do  not  per- 
mit your  strength  to  be  sapped  by  worries 
which  you  ought  to  quietly  lay  upon  the 
love  of  God.  "  Trust  in  the  Lord,  and  do 
good:  so  shalt  thou  dwell  in  the  land,  and 
verily  thou  shalt  be  fed." 

And  the  last  counsel  which  I  will  give 
you  as  merchantmen  in  the  business  of  the 
Kingdom  is  this: — you  never  help  the  busi- 
ness by  advertising  yourself.  Self-adver- 
tisement is  deadly  in  the  ministry  of  the 
Lord  Jesus.  Puffy,  showy  paragraphs 
concerning  ourselves   and  our  work:  ego- 

[236] 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  AFFAIRS 

tistical  recitals  of  our  powers  and  attain- 
ments: all  forms  of  self-obtrusion  and  self- 
aggression:  all  these  are  absolutely  fatal 
to  the  really  deepest  work  committed  to 
our  hands.  Our  fellow-labourers  know 
when  our  work  is  marred  by  self-conceit. 
The  devil  is  delighted  when  he  can  lure  us 
into  self-display.  Our  own  highest  powers 
shrink  and  wither  when  we  expose  them  to 
the  glare  of  self-seeking  publicity.  They 
cannot  bear  a  light  like  that,  and  they 
speedily  lose  their  strength  and  beauty.  I 
urge  you  to  avoid  it.  Never  tell  people 
what  a  clever  fellow  you  are.  Never  write 
a  private  paragraph  to  the  newspaper  giv- 
ing its  readers  the  same  information.  It 
was  said  of  the  Master  Whom  we  serve, 
"  He  shall  not  strive,  nor  cry,  neither  shall 
any  man  hear  His  voice  in  the  streets." 
"  It  was  the  way  the  Master  went.  Shall 
not  the  servant  tread  it  still?"  Of  one 
thing  we  can  be  perfectly  sure:  when  we 
display  ourselves  we  hide  our  Lord;  when 
we  blow  our  own  trumpet  men  will  not 
hear  "  the  still  small  voice  of  God." 

[237] 


THE  PREACHER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WORK 

And  now  I  have  done.  I  have  spoken 
to  you  in  these  lectures  from  the  journals 
of  my  own  life,  the  findings  of  my  own 
experience.  I  thought  you  might  like  to 
know  how  one  man  has  found  the  road 
into  the  service  of  which  you  are  consecrat- 
ing your  life.  I  have  told  you  where  I  have 
found  perils,  and  where  I  have  found  ar- 
bours of  rest  and  refreshing  springs.  Your 
road  may  be  very  different  from  mine,  and 
yet  I  think  the  dominant  features  will  be 
the  same.  You  will  have  your  Slough  of 
Despond,  your  hill  "  Difficulty,"  your  al- 
luring Bye-path  Meadow,  your  Valley  of 
Humiliation,  your  Enchanted  Ground 
where  the  spirit  gets  very  drowsy,  and  your 
clear  hill-tops  with  bewitching  visions  of 
Beulah  Land,  where  the  birds  sing  and  the 
sun  shines  night  and  day.  But  you  will 
surely  find  that,  however  swiftly  changing 
may  be  the  character  of  your  road,  your 
provision  in  Christ  is  most  abundant. 

My  brethren,  you  are  going  forth  into 
a  big  world  to  confront  big  things.  There 
is  "  the  pestilence   that  walketh  in  dark- 

[  238  ] 


THE  PREACHER  AS  A  MAN  OF  A    .  ...IRS 

ness,"  and  there  is  "  the  destruction  that 
wasteth  at  noonday."  There  is  success  and 
there  is  failure,  and  there  is  sin,  and  sor- 
row, and  death.  And  of  all  pathetic 
plights  surely  the  most  pathetic  is  that  of 
a  minister  moving  about  this  grim  field  of 
varied  necessity,  professing  to  be  a  physi- 
cian, but  carrying  in  his  wallet  no  balms, 
no  cordials,  no  caustics  to  meet  the  clamant 
needs  of  men.  But  of  all  privileged  call- 
ings surely  the  most  privileged  is  that  of 
a  Greatheart  pacing  the  highways  of  life, 
carrying  with  him  all  that  is  needed  by 
fainting,  bruised,  and  broken  pilgrims,  per- 
fectly confident  in  Him  "  Whom  He  has 
believed."  Brethren,  your  calling  is  very 
holy.  Your  work  is  very  difficult.  Your 
Saviour  is  very  mighty.  And  the  joy  of 
the  Lord  will  be  your  strength. 


[239  J 


DATE  DUE 

4f\(\R 

m 

3  lyyt) 

HlGHSMITH#^ 

15230 

Printed                     | 
mUSA                    1 

y*>* 


Princeton  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Library 


1    1012  01028  1329 


